Bikers Novels & Stories

If anybody could tell me what should I do to stop myself from loving her, from stop adoring her? Suddenly, I heard the thud sound. I looked around and I found that two of the bikers in front me were laying on the road and their bikes flew few feet’s forward from them. And I found myself right on the finishing line. I pooled brakes immediately and went to see them. They were not badly injured, Just some rashes here and there. I guess it’s normal for a biker to have this much. They stood up quickly and went towards their bike. “You killed it dude. It was thrilling race. I was so excited to see you. What did you eat in the morning?”

And having grown up together their whole life, they work well together running the MC and making the other generations proud. ~~~~~~~~~~THE END~~~~~~~~~~ Be sure to check out my next Biker Romance posting any minute!! Follow me to find it easier, and get notification when it posts!!! Thank you for taking this journey with me, and showing my story your time! "Claimed by the Bikers" "A Menage". It's about the Vet MC. Jaycee and Kenzie’s biker family and Angel's adopted family. It all starts with 3 best friends, Raine, Kim, and Sam. A brunette, a red head, and a blonde.

I swerved. Too sharp. The back tire screamed in protest, traction slipping. The world tilted violently, and for one terrifying second, I knew exactly how this ended. I could already feel the impact, the bone jarring crash, the stillness afterward. Kahlia’s face flashed through my mind. Her worry. Her restraint. Her quiet, infuriating care. I adjusted mid slide, muscles screaming as I fought the bike back into alignment. The tire caught. Barely. The bike snapped straight, heart stopping but alive, and I shot past the wreckage in a blur of sound and heat.

Someone who would love me as I was and save me from my sufferings. Days passed since that incident and my wounds healed faster than normal. I ignored it, however, making sure I didn't cross paths with Melissa again, no matter what. I never set my eyes on Brian since that day either, and I knew it was because he was busy with the race that occurred between our pack and the nearest wolf pack, Moonmist pack. I always wanted to know what it would be like to be a female biker but I knew it was impossible. Only alphas were allowed to be bikers. A mere wolfless omega like me would be killed before I even made it there.

He was just about to signal them to stop and find shelter when a flash of something in the distance caught his attention, and he skidded the bike to a stop, pulling off his helmet. ‘Can you guys see that?’ He asked those around him, pointing to where something was catching the sunshine glittering in the distance. ‘Fuck yeah.’ Martin, the Leader of another MC club, said, and Nathan, another Leader, nodded to, looking around, he could see they all saw it, and it could only be one thing, Morningstar’s compound. All thought of the heat disappeared as they sped towards their destination, the bikes coming together in a formation ready for attack. His next signal sent some of the

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A low growl rumbled in his chest, making the ground vibrate subtly beneath my feet. Suddenly, the compound was alive with movement. The rumble of engines, the glint of chrome. The motorcycle club. They appeared out of the shadows, a tide of leather and steel, encircling Damon and his small envoy. Each biker pulled up, engines idling, forming a tight, menacing ring. And then, the wolves. More of them than I’d ever seen, their eyes glowing in the darkness, their huge forms flanking the bikers, mirroring their aggressive stance. The air crackled with a dangerous energy.

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.

Beautiful. Behind us, explosions. The facility collapsing. Imploding. Burning. Taking everything with it. Victoria. Rookie. Jax. All buried under tons of concrete and fire. We kept running. Away from the blast zone. To where Marco's army waited. Thirty bikers. Iron Serpents. Desert Reapers. Bratva soldiers. All watching the facility burn. We stopped. Caught our breath. Watched the place that had been our prison. Our hell. Collapse.

The sound of loud laughter, rough rock music, and the constant clink of glass beer bottles filled the cool night air as the patched brothers of the Iron Reapers and a few of their allied motorcycle clubs celebrated the successful end of the very first day of the annual run. I stayed completely close to Stone’s side for most of the long evening, sitting tight against his broad chest on a wooden log, but despite my best efforts, my anxious eyes kept drifting across the clearing toward Siren. She was holding court near another large fire pit, surrounded by a tight circle of huge, rugged bikers. She was telling wild, dangerous stories of the open road that had sev

“You’re walking into the Annual Meeting with wolves who smell blood. If you’re going to survive biker politics, you need more than sharp instincts.” “I can ride,” she said quickly. “You’ve seen me.” “I’ve seen you ride,” I corrected. “I haven’t seen you command.” Her brows furrowed. “Hmmm, there’s a difference?” “Obviously,” I replied sounding almost sarcastic. “In this vast world of ours, motorcycles aren’t transportation. They’re statements. The way you ride tells everyone exactly who you are, either; weak, reckless, or untouchable.” She crossed her arms. “And you think I look weak?”