Biker Romance Novels & Stories

Sorry guys, I know the past few chapters have been a little slow, I hope this one makes up for it :) ** Chapter Thirty Seven **A few hours later** Of course, I found the whole ‘’bad biker’’ thing sexy about Alexander, but when dating a biker, it's important to note that he will take you (most) places on the back of his bike. No issue with that obviously… except when we’re going on a date... And I had just styled my hair. Helmet hair is a real thing.

Even over the music, the tension is crackling, electric, a live wire ready to snap. And my wolf; traitorous, relentless, thrashes inside me, demanding I close the distance. Demanding I taste him, even as my brain screams no. ~~ Then it happens. A hand snakes around my waist, yanking me off balance. I whip around, ready to break fingers, and come face-to-face with a drunken human biker. His breath stinks of beer and bad teeth, his grin wide and leering. “Didn’t know they let pretty little things like you hang with the dogs,” he slurs, lips grazing my ear. “How about you come play with me instead?”

she asked, not mockingly, she seemed genuinely curious. “Yes.” My voice cracked a little. I hated that it did. “Enough to do anything.” Rogue stared at me for a few seconds before she spoke again. “Life as a biker isn’t a romance novel Lilith.” I narrowed my eyes. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“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.”

I got my victory, something I've wanted for years, but the emptiness I felt confused me—a little dilemma, a little happy. Lucious was still out there, and I had to do everything to get him. Without him, my victory wasn't complete. The bike roared down the road in a rampage. One bike at a time passed, bloody yet happy, mourning but victorious. The bikers raced while howling at the moon, a sign of victory. Rage's bike was the last, which was unusual for him. I slowed down. Clara noticed and stayed close to me, whether to show loyalty or because she didn't trust me. I couldn't put my hands on it. All I knew was that she was close enough within my range.

For a second, I was sure I was about to watch the man I loved die in a horrible crash. But Tristan and his bike moved like they were one creature. Every tiny adjustment was perfect. He slipped between the other bikes like smoke and came out in the lead. The last two riders weren't giving up. They came at him from both sides, trying to use his speed to slingshot past him at the finish line. One pulled up next to his left side, the other on his right, both getting closer and closer, trying to use their bikes as weapons.

I knew the lifestyle they had, I loved it also furthermore I have actually dated bikers before and I think I can say, I understood the rules of it. Something about these particular bikers was very different though, It wasn’t just a bunch of dumb kids having fun rather It was something much more than that especially because the sex was mind-blowing and the time I spent with them all outside of the bedroom had great weight and I trusted them with some pretty intimate details of my life also including the good, bad, and ugly then most importantly, I have shared my dreams with them and they had done nothing but support me. I guess part of me felt like I’d earned a little more trust than they wer

Then, from the back of the room, someone whistled low, long, and appreciative. It was a sound that made her skin crawl. "Well, well," a greasy-haired biker, his face scarred and his grin wide, drawled, his voice thick with malicious amusement. "Look what wandered in. Reaper’s little pet, eh? Thought you could hide from us, darling?" Her throat was bone-dry, aching with the effort, but she forced the words out, her voice surprisingly steady, despite the frantic hammering of her heart.

Drew After the day I've had, I'm dying to sink into the wet heat of my wife. There's nothing else that helps keep me grounded like being with her. Many men who live the biker lifestyle will say there's nothing like the freedom of straddling their bike and letting the wind blow through their hair. While that's true, and it is my freedom, my wife is pulpit where I kneel and beg God for forgiveness. Fuck she is my forgiveness. Anything I've ever done wrong in my life, I've worked through buried deep inside her heat. Right now I need that forgiveness, that understanding. I need something more than what I've been getting, and I know I'm going to get it from her.

The women around all make noise as he arches his eyebrow at me. Such a foreign human emotion coming from Killer. I shake my head as he dances. His body is lithe and moves with the flow of the song as he holds my hand, spinning me toward him. Some guys and ladies whistle and make obnoxious sounds. The world spins for a moment before I am close to his body. I’m laughing as he smiles, showing his pearly whites. It feels so surreal, like I am dreaming. The room erupts as the other bikers all start grabbing partners and dancing. WE dance for plenty of songs and my feet ache from the long hours the night before but the pain of it is dull compared to the fun I’m having.