Booktok Motorcycle Novels & Stories

“Hmm… It’s a black motorcycle. Right?” “Yeah. It’s an Aprilia. Alpha Nick brought it a few days ago?” I look down the aisle to see if I can find it on my own. “Ah yes, yes. Here we go.” He finally points to a line in his notebook. “Spot two… thirty four. Let me find your keys. Would you like me to bring it up for you?” “No!” I say a little too fast and loud. “I can get it!” “It’s really no problem, Miss.” He gives me a kind smile.

He loved that bike more than anything. More than me, apparently. My feet moved before I fully decided, carrying me toward the garage. The door was locked, but I'd watched Kael open it a hundred times. My shaking fingers punched in the code, and the lock clicked open. The motorcycle sat in the center of the space like a sleeping predator. Beautiful and deadly. I threw my leg over it, my hands finding the familiar grips. The keys hung on a hook nearby, because Kael never thought anyone would be stupid enough to steal from an Alpha.

~Benny~ “Where did you get that?” I asked, eyeing the big motorcycle parked side by side with our BMW. Kai stalked forward, grabbing the helmet dangling from the bike handle. “I have my resources,” he smirked. Gazing at him made my breath hitched. I haven’t seen Kai on a motorcycle. His massive build was a perfect match for the monstrous bike. Today, he ditched his coat and replaced it with a leather jacket, pairing it with his biker boots and dark jeans. The thought of riding behind him on this motorcycle did something weird to my belly.

Now that was the Ty I knew and loved. "We still haven't seen him yet but if you tracked him here and that book ties in then there are only so many places around here he could be hiding out. We'll get to the bottom of it. Just one more player, he should be here..." Just then Chaz opened up the gate and a whole fucking crew of bikers came riding in. The leader dismounted off his custom made top of the line ride with his wife's name emblazoned on the side and headed for us. One smooth motherfucker this one, and the shades just tipped that shit over the edge.

Below it, ten digits I knew I should ignore. "You can't just..." I started, but he was already walking away, his long strides carrying him toward the door. I followed without thinking, pushing through the exit just in time to see him approach a motorcycle parked at the curb. Not just any motorcycle. A custom beast of black chrome and raw power, all sleek dangerous lines that screamed money and recklessness in equal measure. A fucking biker. Of course he was. He swung his leg over the seat with practiced ease, powerful thighs gripping the machine in a way that made liquid drip from my pussy, despite my frustration. He pulled on a helmet but not before catching my eye, that knowing smirk still

Kenzie demands. He turns around with anger on his face and crosses his arms. A few of his brothers snicker. He glances at them and they look away. "You know I'm really disappointed in you. I encouraged Macie to give you a shot. Told her not to believe all those stories that bikers are thugs, criminals, and heartless bastards. I told her there's good and bad in all people. And I hate to be proved wrong!" She began. "I told her just because you're a biker, it didn't mean you weren't a decent guy. But boy did you prove me wrong!" He tries to speak but she holds up her hand. "No, you don't talk, I'm talking!"

Whenn she flushed, he continued, "Don't be embarrassed Sam. I haven't really enjoyed the company of a woman such as yourself in a long time." Drake opened a door previously unnoticed on the wall in the mudroom. Going through the door, they walked out onto a wide wooden deck where a table sat with beautiful china and crystal. Samantha was in awe. There was depths to this man. He was a biker. A beast of a man. Rough around the edges, but with manners to rival any old moneyed family. She began to wonder just who was Drake, President of a motorcycle club.

Kevin saddles the bike and slips his helmet on, and because I really want to ride, I get behind him. They start the bikes and the vibration of the machine between my legs makes me come alive. The motorcycles were new, super bikes, which were great for speed, not so much for cruising. Which meant a tighter grip on Kevin’s torso was a must if I expected to keep my ass planted to the seat. I’ve seen him ride, and he was all speed, and no curtesy.

"It's preferable to go home." Afterwards, we put our shoes and immediately head to his bike. We came to the beach on his big sleek motorcycle. It's an amazing black Kawasaki Ninja with some prominent white outlines. I was afraid to have a ride on this beast at first, but I trusted Eren though he tried to scare the hell out of me by burning up the road like grease lightning.

It’s a corrugated tin shack, leaning precariously against a retaining wall. I rip the door open. Inside, sitting under a tarp, is a motorcycle. It’s not a chopper. It’s a sleek, matte-black sport bike. A Ducati. Fast. Agile. A Reaper's bike. I shove the documents inside my leather jacket—the one Drakon gave me back at the motel, which I miraculously still have—zipping it up to my chin. I jam the key into the ignition. It turns. The dashboard lights up. I hit the starter.