Biker Wings Novels & Stories

The little whore would have to fight her own battles. She kicked off her motorbike stand and revved up the engine of her Silver Wing, pretending to be part of the search for a couple of miles but turning onto a different freeway heading toward Morningstar's clubhouse. He had promised her a Goldwing and a position as one of his inner circle for the information she had. When she pulled up outside his ramshackle clubhouse half an hour later, she felt a pang of regret; the place looked awful, neglected and uncared for. It was nothing like the warm, welcoming vibes you got from the Blue Moon Club, but she had made her, so to speak, and there could be no turning back. She got off her bike and stra

"And teacher? Come alone." "Mr biker, my name is Amelia." The words came out before she could stop them. Deacon looked at her face for a moment. She thought she saw the corner of his mouth move into a small smile. "I know what your name is, Amelia." The way he said it, low and careful, made her name sound dangerous. "The question is, do you know what you’re getting yourself into?" Before she could answer, he walked away. He left her standing in the courtyard. Her heart was beating fast. Her mind was racing.

Victor quickly limped back to the table and picked out a larger dagger before he limped back to the sobbing biker. "Give me the names of the Vipers who approached you." He ordered, holding the dagger to the man's other knee. The biker who had claimed not to know a single thing just minutes ago soon started singing the names of the Vipers who approached him. The question was, was the biker telling the truth when he named the traitor Vipers. "Who else?" Victor asked, and when he shook his head, he slammed the dagger into the bikers' other knee.

I admire the tattoo taking up most of his back, it's similar to Storms. It's a pair of evil snake eyes in red, with a green and yellow snake wrapped around the pistol facing the red eyes of the evil snake. The words The Satan Sniper’s Motorcycle Club are written under the pistol. But what has me at a standstill is the shading that's done around the entire picture, it's a light shading but unmistakable. It's wings, Angel wings. I don't say anything. I want to but I'm tongue tied. I scan his back and stop at the blue bruises around his sides.

I turned to see Cynthia up on the bar. She was wearing a short red mini skirt and matching tank top that barely held in her tits and was up there swinging her hips to the beat. As she made her way to one end one of the bikers handed her a shot which she did quickly then rewarded him by turning around and flipping her skirt up to expose the light blue thong she was wearing. Turning back around Cynthia started to make her way towards the middle when one of the older women that hung with the bikers called out:

His chiseled jawline was carefully sculpted, and his deep brown spiky hair spread across his face, dancing in the wind and slightly hiding his emerald eyes. Each of them wore similar clothing;. Typical characteristics of bikers. They were in jeans, boots, and a vest that displayed their club color. [WILD HOGS]. They also wore a red neckerchief, the ends clasped with a sliding knot ornament. Gold chains hung on their necks, with earrings attached to their ears. In total, they were the word Perfect itself.

I asked, already seeing where this was going. “Damn right,” Kingston chirped, his tone reckless, eyes alight with mischief. “That Deathrider bike we got you wasn’t for f**king decoration it’s because of him. We didn’t want it to be this soon, but Griffin’s been strutting around like he runs the streets. We tried hiring bikers to knock him down, but hell, nobody could. And now?” He gave me a taunting smirk. “Now he’s calling you soft. Saying Rehab washed you up, and if you’re really the fiery rider from years ago, you’ll challenge him.”

I pushed him a few inches away from me, “…marriage.” “But I can’t leave you alone. You don’t even have wings to get out of the suite to eat.” “Jake will escort me and look after me,” I replied with a wicked smile. He rested his forehead against mine and looked into my shining eyes. His forearms, sinking into the mattress beside my head, supported him; then he buried his hands in my hair. I felt my strands twist around his long fingers, which kept my head from moving. He spread his wings, drawing them into the center of my attention. Nathan’s black wings made him feel so stronger and larger that, lying beneath him, I felt increasingly fragile. Their feathers absorbed the sunset’s rays and gle

“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—”

Then, I took out an A3 paper from the briefcase and spread it across the table. It was a curved flight path, overlapping on the city map. "This is the flight path of the Cessna with the registration number B-10YZ between 2:00 pm and 4:00 pm on the same day. This aircraft…" I stared at him. "…is owned by Zach Airways." A flicker of tension crossed Zachary's face. Under the light, his face turned as pale as a sheet as he swallowed hard. Mike fixed his eyes on the two documents for a long time before he gradually raised his head. "Mr. Zachary, this weather report…"