Biker Mc Romance Books Novels & Stories

He touched it with a gentleness I hadn't seen him show to anything else. By the time dusk rolled in, I couldn’t stay cooped up anymore. The walls of the room felt like they were pressing in. I slipped out and wandered through the dimly lit hallways of the clubhouse. Most of the bikers ignored me, their attention on card games or greasy food. Some stared, curious but silent, their eyes following me like shadows. I heard whispers, hushed tones that carried through the smoke-filled air. About “the girl Reaper brought in.” About me being “another broken bird.”

The rider slammed on the brakes, the bike sliding sideways and coming to a stop just inches from my legs. He ripped his helmet off. He had dark hair, a jagged scar near his eyebrow, and a look of pure annoyance. His leather vest had a patch: IRON GRAVE MC. "You trying to die, Princess?" he barked. "Or did you just get lost on the way to the castle?" I was shaking so hard I could barely speak. In the distance, I saw the black SUVs. Edmund’s men. "Please," I choked out, grabbing his arm. "I need to get out of here. They’re going to catch me."

I turned the key, and the machine rumbled to life, already filling me with adrenaline. The vibration under me calmed down some of the chaos in my head, especially Liliana's lips. "Try not to crash thinking about your little distraction," Landen shouted over the roar of his own bike. "Shut up!" I yelled, revving mine harder. We zoomed out of the pack house, leaving dust particles flying in the air in our wake, and through the street, straight into the woods. The southern border wasn't far, but the ride was enough to remind me who I was-an Alpha, a Ravager, not some love-drunk fool.

Reaching up behind his head, I pulled his face down to mine. What the hell was wrong with me? I wanted him. Even when he was manhandling me, my body craved more. I wanted that hand around my throat while he stripped me naked and explored every crevice. I didn't want him to be loving or gentle. I wanted… No, I NEEDED him to be the Cyber I remembered. The bad ass biker who took what he wanted, the one that had his fingers inside me within five minutes of saying hello. I missed that Cyber.

I snort laughing. “Thank you, I think.” “You’re inviting us now,” another woman says immediately. “I actually was going to,” I admit. “If you guys want to come.” Natalie gasps dramatically. “I’ve never been to a biker wedding.” “It’s not really a biker wedding,” I correct. “Are there tattoos?” she asks “Yes.” “Hot men with beards?” “…probably.” “Then it’s a biker wedding.” she insists The group laughs.

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

VOLUME ONE: HURRICANE Tatum I jerk my head upright as the roar of a motorcycle breaks through the otherwise peaceful Bowling Green, Kentucky morning. The book on my phone's reading app is forgotten as I put a hand to my chest and cut my gaze directly across from Cash's Customs, the body shop specializing in foreign makes and models I work at. Walker's Wheels, which specializes in domestic vehicles and motorcycles, is my dad's shop, and the man leaving the parking lot is the one who pissed me off a year ago. In all honesty, he's still pissing me off. I glare at his leather-jacket covered back as he rides down the street. Pissed off because he ruined my concentration, I try not to think about

I didn’t want him to think I was ogling him as the package and not the bike-- oh God no! I still can't have anything to do with any man until I've done away with Oliver for good. It'd be unfair to cheat emotionally with whoever I'll be with right now and a biker? Damn, that's far from it. They tend to be wild, dangerous, toxic- I've read a lot of biker romance and good Lord, it's about biker gangs and shit. No, thanks, I'll pass. I turned my head to steal glances at him again when I suddenly saw the biker's helmet right next to my window.

Behind it, three more bikes were laying carelessly. They were made of black leather and belonged to the Vultures; my brothers. Smoke oozed off the first bike as the rider approached, his grin wide and careless. “Look who’s finally out. Still remember what freedom feels like?” I tried to smile but it came out forced. “Feels lighter than steel bars, I guess.” He pulled me into a hug. He smelled like oil and cigarettes. “We kept your girl tuned, didn’t think you’d want anyone else touching her.” He said gesturing to the bike behind him.

Nothing mattered anymore—not since they'd taken everything from her. Six weeks. Six weeks since Michael’s mutilated body had been pulled from the river, weighted down with chains, his fingers cut off and his tongue removed—the Diamondbacks' signature for dealing with traitors. Six weeks of police giving her the runaround, of leads going nowhere, of a system that didn't care about one dead biker. But Raven had spent those weeks learning, watching, preparing. She'd studied the motorcycle clubs, their territories, their wars. She knew exactly what she was walking into.