Novelas y relatos de Biker Giant

Jax looked confused and everyone else laughed. It was an infant sized white t-shirt that said, "I don't snore, I dream I'm a motorcycle". "Keep going. You'll figure it out." Raine smiled. Jax opened the second box and unfolded a black infant tshirt. Written on it is, "Born to be a Biker Just like my Daddy". The third box has two shirts in it in Jax's size. One is white. It has a picture of a motorcycle on it and says, “My Daddy is a Biker”.

I began as I also gave Yulia and Miles their own files. “Biker gangs are more than four, Issa, they are close to twenty or more,” Jamal said. “These four are our persons of interest because they deal with something different from the rest of the gang,” I said. “Dark magic,” Miles added. “What else can you tell us about them?” Jamal asked. “The first biker is called Austin Jordan, went to prison for seven counts of rape and sexual assault, he was sentenced to ten years, now he is an enforcer for the gang and mostly deals in human trafficking,” I said.

My gaze scanned his bike, and I saw that it had a realistic drawing of a silver-furred wolf with sharp golden eyes designed on the bike, along with a long line of smoky red flames drawn across the body of the bike. The biker was clad in a black leather jacket and putting on a sleek black helmet that looked different from the others. He gave off a different aura. A leader's aura I found myself being drawn to as I felt tingles between my legs. "Oh, my fucking goodness! Aleric Dolce came to college today?!" The girls squealed louder in whispers, blushing and barely controlling their excitement as they rushed forward to have a better view of the bikers.

Mason replies. " You know the lives of bikers. Dangerous missions, alcohol and women. That's our lives. It was my life before I met you. I don't need to pretend to be something I wasn't. I used to fuck,alot. Different women every time. Some who just wanted to be fucked by a biker, others who were trying to get into a relationship. I don't want to sugarcoat things for you, Hera. What you see is what you get." I assure her. She stares at me with an unreadable expression. I can't decipher what's going through her mind. Her thoughts.

“Mandy, you can’t be serious!” “Oh, she’s serious as a heart-attack!” a booming voice with deep dulcet tones echoed in the tavern. I spun around. Behind me stood a 6ft, terrifying giant. I recognized him immediately. Dexter. One of the most terrifying bikers I’d ever seen and the leader of the Devils. He had a long scar on his face. Clad in black throughout, his gun hung from his waist. He had an aura of darkness, meanness, death followed him wherever he went. I’d heard stories of the towns he had ravished.

I replied, sliding a wrench into my back pocket. "Good. Because the qualifiers today aren't just about speed. It's a contact sport," he warned, nodding toward the far end of the pit. "The Ravagers brought their new ringer. They call him 'The Butcher.' He likes to see how much chrome he can peel off other people's bikes while they're still moving."

The guy stood, tattoos coiling up his forearms like ivy. Gabe blinked up. “Oh, shit…” The biker grabbed his collar and lifted him like laundry. “Look, mate,” Gabe said, breathless, “can we talk this over? I don’t dance on first dates.” “No,” the biker said, and threw him. Gabe hit a snooker table, beer geysering into a bystander’s lap. The biker was on him again, a piston of a fist sending him careening into Andrew. Andrew laughed, holding his ribs. “Now this is entertainment.”

I exhaled slowly, when his finger touch my cheek. “Can you take me home?” “I don’t know where your house is,” he replied. “Maybe you can give me an address… or I can take you on my bike.” My eyes widened instantly. “You have a bike?” He smirked slightly. “It’s right this way.” He led me to where an elegant, nightshade, black bike was packed. His bike was a damn beauty, and from looking at it, I could tell it cost quite a pinch. “It’s beautiful,” I said, smiling brightly as I ran my finger over the machine.

Mark adds, “new records are practically guaranteed. No one’s going to keep up with us next season.” That part earns knowing nods. Blackburn Inc. didn’t just design bikes — they unleashed monsters. I’ve been test-riding the prototypes between races, and they don’t just move — they fly. Smooth. Savage. Perfect. Sean raises his glass from across the room, giving me a sharp salute. It’s been one hell of a year for both of us. He’s eyeing a podium finish — just needs one more win. Right now, Enervoltz rider Graham Scott sits in second. Honda’s Zaine trails in third. Graham isn’t exactly thrilled about handing the crown back to me.

He warned, before walking out and heading to the entrance. I finished work with Rider standing close. He was the only brother, beside Alex, who stayed this close to me. He was constantly looking round, trying to spot any threats. Everyone had been vetted by Holgate, he was just being precautious. It was coming up to 5pm, time to clock off. I wasn’t working late today, I had the rest of the week, because I wanted to catch up on what I had missed, but I had nothing left to do. I logged out of my computer, signaling to my boss that I was done for the day. He nodded and gave me a thumbs up. He also nodded to Rider, Rider was intimating to everyone I worked with, he was tall, around 6ft 6. He pro