Booktok Bikers Novels & Stories

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She opened her mouth to scream when the sound of motorcycle engines roared down the street. Six bikes appeared from around the corner moving fast. They weren't Vipers. The engines sounded different. More expensive. The bikes pulled up in a half circle around Maya and the three men and suddenly the air felt different. Heavier. The riders killed their engines and the silence that followed was worse than the noise. They climbed off their bikes and Maya saw their vests. Iron Wolves MC. She didn't know if that was better or worse than the Vipers. One of them walked forward and the others followed. He was tall with dark hair and the kind of face that probably got him anything he wanted. His leathe

the motorcyclist proposed, his deep and resonant voice calming me. You can trust him, a little voice spoke in my mind. I sighed, nodded, and hoped I hadn't just invited a psychopath to sit in my broken-down car with my three young children. I watched the biker closely as he sat in the passenger seat, removed his helmet, and called the local mechanic. It sounded like they knew each other and had a cordial relationship. According to the handsome man beside me, Jack Turner agreed to be here within the hour and would give me a tow free of charge.

“No, probably not. But you’re easy to talk to. I’m starting to think Knox might’ve done something smart for once.” “Oh, is that rare?” I tease. “Shockingly so,” he says, his voice full of mock horror. “He’s a good brother, don’t get me wrong, but the man’s not exactly known for making soft choices. Especially not the kind that involve hearts and feelings and long walks on the beach.” I laugh again. “You lot really think bikers don’t have feelings, huh?” He shrugs, cocky grin still in place. “We have feelings. We just like to ignore them until they blow up and someone throws a chair through a window.”

I followed Reaper's gaze. Idling at the very edge of the jungle treeline, acting as a heavily armed escort for the weary scavengers behind them, was a pack of about fifty outlaw bikers. They didn't ride sleek hover-tech. They rode massive, ear-splitting combustion choppers, rusted and spiked for wasteland warfare. Even from the top of the wall, I could see the patches on their heavy leather cuts. They bore a single, jagged word stitched in crimson: Revers. At the head of the column sat their leader on a monstrous, elongated chopper. Across his rusted gas tank, a brutal, unforgiving motto had been spray-painted in thick white letters: Blood on the asphalt.

“A tale from the old days. Back when the outlaw Minus the Kid would ride into town and raise hell.” “I have just as much blood on my hands as you do,” I said coolly. Sweet Pea, a man of few words, finally spoke, “But way more shit on your boots.” It felt good busting balls with my crew again, and to hear their laughter. Of course, we all kept up via text and the occasional email, but that’s no substitute for hanging out face to face. Plus, bikers aren’t widely known as the best pen pals.

The two drivers opened their doors and got out, walking towards me as well. “We don’t want any trouble, we are just lackeys in everything.” They held up their hands in surrender, holding still as I stalked past them to the van. I swung open the side door, its hinges protesting loudly. There was nothing inside except for road block equipment, vests, and someone’s half eaten sandwich. “Son of a bitch!” I slammed the door home and turned to the two wolves. I knew they were Black Haven, the stench of licorice was strong on them. The two bikers had joined the others, more than likely feeling safety in numbers. They were slight and about a good half foot or more shorter than me, making them as mor

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 several of the club brothers hangin

"That's some serious stakes. Alright. My boys will hold the stairwell. Keep Reeves's people and those crazy experiment things off your back. You get what you need. Then we all get the hell out. Deal?" "Deal." The bikers positioned themselves. Creating a defensive perimeter. They looked ridiculous. Motorcycle gang in a high-tech facility. But they moved with military precision. These were not random criminals. These were soldiers. Organized. Disciplined. "Where did you learn combat tactics?" Damien asked Garrett.

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.