Booktok Motorcycle Novels & Stories

“Kayden needs to keep his distance from you” “What do you mean” “Kayden’s girls are crazy and trust me you don't want to get involved with them” “I wasn't hurt” “What happened in the mall was just the tip of an iceberg” Shawn gave me a pink helmet and I looked at him confused. “You are riding with me” Just as he said that, I noticed the black motorcycle behind him. The deep lustrous paint adorned it's sleek body, and it screamed pure luxury, it looked like a power motorcycle forged from lightweight carbon.

Someone in the background said a long litany of some very impressive swear words strung together in one breath. “Your kid?” “Anyway, I’m sending you the information and what I want you to do now. It’ll just take a few days of your time, but it’ll be worth it. The bikes are for your men, by the way, since it wouldn’t be good to take your girl into asshole territory without backup.” “Are they yours? Your design, I mean.” “Of course.” “Not bad.” “It’s a deal then; I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up before I could argue with him more.

—said Bruno, as he came closer to hug me. —Bruno, I also hope you will visit me,— I said with a smile; he hugged me tightly, his hands caressed my back. —Before you leave, I want to show you something,— said Bruno, and I saw how they were bringing a motorcycle. It was beautiful, a classic black and silver Harley Davidson. I couldn't help but show a smile when I saw it —it is beautiful, when you bought it I never saw you use it— I asked him excitedly.

This time, Thomas wants to relive their togetherness on a motorcycle. Although... he dug a bit deeper into his wallet for the brand-new motorcycle, which was neatly parked in the basement. There's no way he'd go to Bogor on his Ninja. Aside from still being cautious with his back, he had to consider Olive's comfort as well. So, the choice for his one-year-old black PCX was made. It's still in excellent condition, not a scratch on its body. That's the one he'll be taking on the ride to Puncak in Bogor. Who knows, Olive might want to visit one of the tourist spots there.

I can’t wait to paint that pretty ass of hers red for this disrespect. He secured the scarf and swung his leg over his bike; the bright red Honda Fireblade gleamed as the early morning sun touched it, while Justin gave him a wide grin. ‘It was a mighty fine little ass to, pert and firm, perfect for spanking.’ With his mind full of the image of her naked body, he swung his leg over his more conservative jet black Kawasaki Ninja. Both bikes purred rather than roared into action, belying their powerful engines as the two men manoevred them gingerly onto the highway heading for their MC.

I burst through the doors and hit the street. I ran until my feet bled. I threw my heels into a bush and kept going, my breath hitching in my chest. I scrambled toward the highway, desperate to get away before the black cars found me. I was halfway across the old bridge when I heard the roar of an engine. A massive black motorcycle came screaming around the bend. I didn't even have time to jump out of the way. The rider slammed on the brakes, the bike sliding sideways and coming to a stop just inches from my legs.

They were all black, lined up neatly with the riders already sitting on them as though they were waiting for something or rather someone, every bike had an owner. Jax walked straight to the middle, they were all there, dressed in the same leather jackets, black gloves, black pants, I couldn't help feeling a little out of place. My eyes found one of the riders and instantly I knew who it was, his bike stood out differently, where the others were smaller it stood tall and proud just like him. The matte-black motorcycle rumbled beneath him, its powerful engine growling like a caged beast. Sleek, fast, and intimidating, like it was a machine built for dominance and control, something that scream

“Anything with an engine, we can tow, fix or build.” I nodded. “And you said ‘club.’ I’m assuming it’s not a sewing club, right?” Booker smiled. “Motorcycle club.” I stopped. It took him a minute to realize I was no longer beside him, which gave me a partial view of the back of his jacket. Dogs of something. Dogs of Wonder? No, that wouldn’t be right… a badass motorcycle guy wouldn’t have Dogs of Wonder on the back of his jacket. Well, crap! He walked back toward me. “You okay?”

There are only two things in this fucked up world I give a damn about, motorcycles and women. ​I ride them both the same way with a heavy hand and zero mercy. I like easing into the stroke, feeling the machine warm up beneath me, then manhandling them around tight corners until the metal screams. I want them redlining, vibrating through my bones until they’re begging me to let off the gas. I don't do gentle. I do control. ​Sup, Boss.

We looked at the pack land together in the early morning, and I thought about the highway in the dark and the bond reaching toward something it couldn't reach yet, and I thought about what it meant to be the thing it was reaching toward without knowing it. "I want to ask you something," I said. "Okay." "The riding." I paused. "The motorcycle. You've been doing it your whole life. What is it about it." He thought about this for a moment. "It's the only thing where the speed is inside the experience rather than outside it," he said. "In a car you're watching the speed. On a bike you're in it. Your body is part of the physics." He paused. "During the feral years it was the only time the noise i