Biker Or Not Novels & Stories

“Stop looking at me like that.” I snap out of my horny daze and look up at him. He’s frowning, clearly not enjoying being checked out. Never met a biker who didn’t like the attention of a woman. Then again, I’ve noticed he’s different from every other biker... or any healthy man, for that matter. Maybe he’s gay. The hot ones always are. “Fuck you. My room, my rules. You came in here, so I can check you out if I feel like it.”

Perhaps the answer lies not in the question I ask, but in the unspoken language his body betrays. "Were they like a gang or something," I finally say. He looks at me, lifting an impressive brow, "You are an observer aren't you?" What does that even mean? "Just answer my question." "Bikers gang." Like in the movies. Wait, these things are real. "You are kidding?" He doesn't reply just gives me a look. "So, like is the mafia real too?" "Yes," he deadpanned. Oh my God. I always thought they were stories from the past. It feels like I've been living in a bubble for so long.

He crumples to the floor. That … wasn’t planned. But damn, it feels good. “Now get the fuck out of this house.” He scrambles up, eyes wild, breathing hard. I see it then — the unhinged gleam. The kind you don’t ignore. Fuck. I need Mel away from this guy. He’s not meant for her. Not good boyfriend material. Just the thought hits me in the gut. “This isn’t over, biker,” he spits. I smile. Slow. Sharp.

Crowe, entry thirty one, matte black bike* I went and pulled everything. The surface layer was straightforward. Jaxen Crowe, twenty eight. Director and founder of the Moon Biker's Club, established four years ago as a regional outfit and expanded within eighteen months into something that made the industry pay attention. Clean record, no charges, no civil suits, nothing that would raise a flag on a standard background check. Tax filings current. Business registration clean. The kind of paper trail that belonged to someone who either had very good lawyers or was genuinely careful about how he operated.

"Before I stop being polite." The tall Viper looked like he wanted to argue but one of his friends grabbed his arm. "Come on man. It's not worth it." They backed away slowly then turned and walked off into the growing darkness. Maya watched until they disappeared around a corner. Her hands were shaking and she shoved them in her pockets so no one would see. "You okay?" Blackwood asked again. "I'm fine." Maya looked at her bike. At the neighborhood around her. At the six bikers standing there like they were waiting for something. "I just need to fix my starter."

Cracker’s POV “Can I buy you a drink?” I glanced up at the biker standing next to me. He was impressive looking and, judging from his vest, also an MC. But I didn’t recognize the name. He was probably an enforcer like Steel, but not nearly as muscular, or as handsome, or as--- I mentally groaned.

“You’re walking into the Annual Meeting with wolves who smell blood. If you’re going to survive biker politics, you need more than sharp instincts.” “I can ride,” she said quickly. “You’ve seen me.” “I’ve seen you ride,” I corrected. “I haven’t seen you command.” Her brows furrowed. “Hmmm, there’s a difference?” “Obviously,” I replied sounding almost sarcastic. “In this vast world of ours, motorcycles aren’t transportation. They’re statements. The way you ride tells everyone exactly who you are, either; weak, reckless, or untouchable.” She crossed her arms. “And you think I look weak?”

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.

And the first encounter was unforgettable. There's a bike parked in front of the mansion and I got on it. I was playing on the bike, suddenly someone pushed me off of the bike. I cried out and when I looked back, I first met Artemis. He's a twenty-four years old guy with a nastiest mind, deadly handsome face and figure and hot temper. From the beginning, he couldn't tolerate me at all. He wasn't happy that his father married my mother. But he wasn't like that toward my sister.

No one answered. Kade’s patience snapped slightly. “Enough.” The single word carried weight. Authority. The others backed off immediately, disappearing again like they had never been there. That told me everything I needed to know about his position here. I looked at him slowly. “You’re not just some biker,” I said. “No.” “What are you, then?” He held my gaze. “Someone who kept you alive longer than they planned.” My breath caught. “They?” I repeated. Kade didn’t answer immediately.