Novel & Cerita Biker Or Not

Beggar My bitching and moaning finally paid off and Killer taught me how to ride my own bike. My biker licence was fake but the red and chrome machine I swing my legs over is real. As real as the cut I am wearing that says National Soldier. Got my patch party a few months back. It was a National thing and after I walked through that fire, I became one of them. “Are you two ready to roll.” Snake asks from the other side of me and I see the long line of bikers saddle their bikes.

"You wear it tonight, and you wear it every single night until I say otherwise. Understood?" I swallowed hard and slipped my arms through the large armholes. The rich, intoxicating scent of him—expensive leather, fresh tobacco smoke, and a faint, clean cologne—wrapped around me completely. It felt like a warm, heavy blanket. It felt like a claim. Several bikers standing nearby saw what happened. They broke out into loud whistles and wide grins. One older, rugged-looking guy raised his glass of beer toward us in a mock toast, smiling at Stone's quick move.

“As much as I enjoy watching you all roll around in the dirt, I have something important to announce.” “Here we go,” Kara muttered. “The annual Biker Pack Tournament,” Felix continued, pausing for effect, “is officially around the corner.” A wave of excitement rolled through the field. Warriors began murmuring, some cheering outright. Even a few of the older fighters exchanged eager grins. Felix’s smirk widened. “I take it some of you still remember how it works?” “Do we look dead to you?” someone yelled from the back. He ignored the comment, continuing, “All packs from the region will be joining this year. Four in total. That means more competition, more glory—”

He explained. "Really?" Sam asked. "Yeah, I do. Don't you?" He asked. "I've never thought about it. But I figured bikers didn't do kids." Sam replied. "Bikers are like anyone else. Some do and some don't. Our club isn't into the illegal shit so I'm good with kids." Smokey explained. "So, give it some thought." Sam nodded. "Guess who's coming to the clubhouse this weekend?" Smokey asked. "Snake?" Sam asked.

We looked at the pack land together in the early morning, and I thought about the highway in the dark and the bond reaching toward something it couldn't reach yet, and I thought about what it meant to be the thing it was reaching toward without knowing it. "I want to ask you something," I said. "Okay." "The riding." I paused. "The motorcycle. You've been doing it your whole life. What is it about it." He thought about this for a moment. "It's the only thing where the speed is inside the experience rather than outside it," he said. "In a car you're watching the speed. On a bike you're in it. Your body is part of the physics." He paused. "During the feral years it was the only time the noise i

But make no mistake: you do not mess with me, my brothers, or their old ladies. ​I climbed down from my bike. The house wasn't completely dead, but it was quiet for a Sunday morning. Most of my club brothers were back home with their women, though a few were definitely upstairs in the clubhouse rooms, hooking up with the club girls. Even the guys with old ladies still mess around at the clubhouse sometimes. I guess their women know exactly what they signed up for when they chose the biker life. But me? I could never imagine cheating on Ella. Once we are together, that's it. She's my only one.

I chuckled. “Of course. The only biker who can race more than I do is the Masked VA.” As she spoke, she had a look of admiration on her face. “You know the Masked VA?” I asked her curiously. She gave me a weird look. “Every biker does. He is the king of biking, I dare say. I hope to meet him someday.” She smiled with a fawning voice. “Good for you.” I shrugged. “You don’t seem impressed.” She observed.

And 'Riders MC ' engraved at the top. "This is the symbol of my club. These badges are only given to the MC members. But you both look like you are newly married. Show this to anyone who stops you. This will take you out of this mess faster. Now go" he said while playing with the cigarette in his mouth. Reed nodded his thank you. The biker looks to be in his early forties. Salt and pepper hair adorns his temples and beard. He looks fit and confident. But he is a friend of Victor, which is speaking volumes about what kind of man he is.

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.

I have an inkling that soon it will get hotter when Brie sits on my motorcycle. Her little bum chafes on the smooth leather saddle of my wild motorcycle. When I think about it, my penis starts to move. Stop it already! Scale back the hormones and behave like a normal guy. Actually, I’m a pretty crazy dude, if you are familiar with me—criminal records, drunken fights, smashing of bottles. I hope that if Brie finds out about all of these, she won’t treat me like shit. For some reason, it seemed to me that she is always standing high above