Biker Rules Novels & Stories

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

"And if you try to run, I will find you. And I will break both your legs." I believed him. Jackson was waiting by his bike. He wore dark jeans, a black t-shirt under his leather cut, and sunglasses that hid those cold gray eyes. He looked me over slowly, his expression unreadable. "Get on." "I have never been on a motorcycle before." "Then today you learn." He handed me a helmet. "Put this on." My hands shook as I fastened the helmet. Jackson swung onto the bike and looked back at me expectantly. I climbed on behind him awkwardly, not sure where to put my hands.

Too good at it. I learned her moods. Her tells. I read her like a book. But when the hormones kicked in, and my dick started wanting more, I made rules to keep myself in line. Rules are control. Control is survival. Some came from martial arts. Others I invented along the way. Over time, the list grew. They keep the demons quiet. Keep me functional. I bring them up in my head. Rule 1: Never fall in love with your best friend’s sister.

The Eldest brother rumbled. Then without further comment, or touching Walter removed his hand and continued on towards the middle of the matt just between Brandon and Lander. "All right." Walter said once he got in position. "I'll explain the rules to the new combatant." he said his deep voice filling and dispelling the awkward silence. "Rule 1, No groins. Rule 2, No eyes. Rule 3, No Shifting. Rule 4, No Supernatural abilities. Combatants can only use non-lethal weapons. Okay?"

He made me feel brave and safe, and I had been so desperate to hold onto it, I’d even let myself feel attracted to him, forgetting the most important thing. All bikers are condescending assholes! And they’d never see a whore as anything other than a cunt to fuck! I turned on the shower and muffled the sobs into my hand...

The only source of light now was the full moon, street lamps, and light from the bulb and it was less crowdy. From the distance, I saw a woman holding her little girl as they sauntered and another man jogging downtown. Somewhere down the street, a rap contest and crowd cheers sounded. I was humming a song as I walked now half-conscious of my environment. …I’m ain't your son. You ain't my father. So just sleep off if you want to and stop getting me worried. Worried. Worried...

He arches his thick brow, his green eyes a shade lighter under the natural outside light, whilst his skin has adopted a deep golden tan. “Storm ha,” he rubs his index finger on his scar under his eye. “Hate to break it to you but you've been waiting for me, and well done.” “What did I do?” He drops his hand and slides it into his pocket, his features change. I'd say he’s more relaxed. “You passed rule number one.” Regardless of the mean big scary biker my face cracks and I'm smiling. My guess was correct, I knew this was a test but only because of Killer’s warning. I'm going to have to thank him.

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.

THE BIKER KING CALLS Despite how dangerous the atmosphere of the room felt, dinner was… quiet. Arthur stretched subtly in his seat, looking over at the plates set neatly on the long wooden table stretching through the center of the room. A single overhead light glinted off the rim of his glass as he sipped on his wine. Slowly, he looked around at the plain walls and the men standing at the dark corners of the room. A few had their arms folded, others rested their hands behind their backs. Every time they moved, their leather jackets would lift, revealing guns tucked into waistbands and knives strapped to their thighs. None of them spoke. None moved unless Victor told them to.

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.