Novel & Cerita Biker Or Not

The bike stops right in front of us, so close I feel the heat from it. I can't map out the rider, but they feel scary. “Hey, what the fuck, man!” the brunette snaps, irritation edging into his voice. The biker swings a leg off, never turning the lights off. They lift something long and solid. Is that a bat? They roll it once in their hand, casual. Almost bored. “Who’s first?”

Krystal's resolute nod reinforced our commitment to follow his advice, understanding the necessity of maintaining a low profile in this volatile Following Krystal's lead, I followed her towards the bar, the familiar strains of Bob Seger's "Main Street" resonating through the air. The choice of music only confirmed what I had already suspected – we were indeed in a biker bar. In my mind, Fat Bob had always been associated with images of Harley-Davidsons, cold beers, and Tom Cruise's infamous underwear dance. Little did I know that tonight, I would be adding toothy strippers to that rather eclectic mental picture.

“Most of them. You know bikes?” “Apparently,” I said. I stood back up. Elara had stopped laughing. She was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t read, her arms still crossed over her middle. “You ride?” Dominic asked. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I think I used to.” “You should take her out,” Dominic said. “See if it comes back.” I looked at the motorcycle. There was something about it. Not the specific bike, just the shape of it, the weight of it sitting there in the morning light.

Why won't they? He is a moderately built and heavily inked lad with strikingly cool features, like a deity. He had chiseled jawline, flawless white skin, deep blue eyes and a nice crew cut, which suited his face perfectly. He was the epitome of perfection itself and one of the famous sexiest bikers in college. Carl was his rival because they both have the same talent, good looks and a few similar qualities. “I know it's Jade…” Carl growled amidst clenched teeth when he saw the faces of one of the bullies.. “That two-timing asshole! She almost got me laid a few weeks ago.”

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.

"You're imagining things. There are no gods, but you have to go right now. I'd rather not get you into trouble once the fighting starts." "What?!" The biker was shocked. "Who's fighting?"

“Satan’s Bar. We own it.” “We?” “The Road Devils.” “Are what are you?” She thought about the men’s names, the matching vests, the gun, the tattoos. “Are you a – a biker gang?” “You mean, are we a motorcycle club as seen on prime time TV and in Hollywood movies?” She nodded. “Yes and no.” He sighed. “We are indeed an MC but we aren’t criminals.” “You aren’t?” “Well…” A strange look crossed his face, then he seemed to snap back to himself. “Yeah. I mean, no, we’re not criminals.”

I said to them, trying to step away, but I stepped into another biker that stood behind me. I hadn’t even noticed him until that moment. He had his arms folded across his chest and he was looking down at me with his helmet covering his entire face. “Please…” I said to them. “Just let me go—” “I don’t think we are going to do that,” the first biker said. “Not until we have a little bit of fun with you.” “What is it that you want?” I asked. “Money? I don’t have much but—” “Oh, we don’t want your money. But I think you know what we do want,” one of the men laughed.

“You’re serious?” “I like all of them,” I admitted. “For completely different reasons.” She let out a small laugh. “Sofia… they’re not exactly the sharing type.” “Why not?” I asked honestly. She stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “You’re asking why a group of hardcore biker guys wouldn’t want to share one woman?” “Yes,” I said firmly. “Because they’re possessive,” she replied. “Very and at some point, someone’s going to want more, someone’s going to get jealous and when that happens? It won’t be pretty.”

, the inquisitive little queen that she is. “There is a code we bikers live by. My father violated that code and by that same code my actions were considered justified”, I told her, since she'd learn about it sooner or later anyway. “That, and I had already been running the crew for a few years at that point”! “For a bunch of bikers, you’re hardly ever on them”, she says. Being a biker is so much more than riding them, but even we know how weather limitations work. “It’s cold and wet, we’re not reckless”, I tell her.