Biker Or Not Novels & Stories

My leather jacket felt too tight suddenly, constricting around my chest. I wanted to touch his hair badly, wanted to listen to him ramble all day long or watch him smile. He didn't know it, but I liked him a lot, and it was driving me crazy. We might be Alphas from different Packs, but we were all working for one person in the Bikers association, and we might take over from the old hag if we did our job right. But we were slacking lately, and folks from Summer West were the ones taking control.

she looked at me and I nodded. "My Uncle Bruce was a member of the Demon Riders MC." she added quietly. Joker gasped along with Blade while Dom, Decker, Jaden and Ash looked confused. Thrash closed his eyes and muttered a curse. "Who are the Demon Riders?" Dom demanded. "Yeah, I've never heard of them and we've had business with every MC in the area." Decker added.

There was a reason for us not letting just anyone on the back of our bikes. Like our homes, that shit was sacred; yeah, we're fucked up like that. There had been a great many who'd wanted the privilege but had been shot down. A fuck was a fuck, but the keeper was a whole different story. A man's bike was for his keeper. "Only a man's true mate should ever be on the back of his bike. I think our rapping brothers call it a ride or die bitch." "Um, I'm not hip; what exactly does that mean?"

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.

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

Jack plop on my bed. "I know." I continued brushing my hair. "Where are off to?" "Isn't it obvious?" "Yeah but I'm a little worried for ya." "Why?" "You can be arrested or worst have an accident, I think is time you stop your biker games." He said. "No way in hell! That's my life! You don't know how it feels to be on a bike riding full speed! Is fucking good." "That is risky Nat! Each time you go out dressed like this I'm always worried as fuck, that something bad might happen to you." He stood up taking some steps toward me.

Or maybe it was just the fact that she looked tired. But I knew her type. There had always been a line drawn down the middle of the two types of women, Bikers attracted. The girls who would never be anything other than be a warm hole to fill and then there were the women who claimed the title of old lady or daughter. “Is he here or not?” I kept my polite smile in place but my voice had turned steely. “Actually don’t worry your pretty little head about it, I know where he sits.”

“You okay?” “Motorcycle club?” I asked. He nodded. “Like Hell’s Angels?” Booker smirked. “In theory.” “Crap.” I glanced up at him. “I really should go.” “Go where, darlin’? There’s nothing around here for over a mile in any direction.” “Clarify something for me. Are you a club because you have really nice bikes and like to hang out and drink beer on occasion, or are you like outlaws or something?”

“You really are determined to destroy everything your father built.” Anger flared through my chest. “You grabbed me.” He tilted his head. “You slapped me verbally in front of half the city.” “That is not the same.” “No,” he agreed calmly. “It isn’t.” He turned to face me. “But what your little biker friend did inside? That is.” A cold knot formed in my stomach. Adrian watched me carefully. “You should know something about men like him,” he said. “What?” “They don’t survive in my world.”

She giggled. Just like that, his whole posture changed. The tension in his shoulders softened. the dangerous edge vanished, and for a second, he wasn't a biker with a reputation. He was just a man. I watched the shift happen. And it hit me. People think they know men like him. Scars, Tattoo’s, Motorcycle, Broken knuckles. and they reach for the easy labels: Dangerous. Violent. Bad news. But Lily looked at him like he was a jungle gym and a superhero combined.