Motorcycle Club Romance Novelas e Histórias

“Don’t wait up for me tonight. It’ll be very late.” On my way out of the house, I called Damien again. “Everything set up?” “Yes, everyone’s on their way.” “Have our watchers said anything about movement in the clubhouse?” “They seem to have a meeting. All the bikes are in front of the club.” Now that Rico had destroyed an entire chapter in cold blood, the retribution of the MC was only a matter of time. They were volatile, bound by fewer rules than us. It was part of my life I didn’t want Sofia, Stefan, or Valentina to be part of. I’d do my best to protect them from it.

The Diavlo Scurri motor club wasn’t a place for men who played by rules it was carved from rebellion and rebuilt by blood. Broken-down muscle bikes lined the gravel lot like armored beasts sleeping under moonlight. Rust streaked the metal like war paint. Chains hung from the sides of garage doors, clinking softly in the wind. The paint on the walls peeled like old scars, revealing decades of dirt and loyalty. Inside, the dim lights cast long shadows across the concrete, cutting through cigarette smoke and haze like blades. The scent of sweat and motor oil was thick in the air, soaked into every splinter of wood, every steel bolt. This was home. This was the altar I prayed to when I forgot ho

Our old ladies had set up a rescue centre, and they took it in turns to keep it open around the clock. My delicious little Russian tigress had never been in any real danger, but she was going to learn that I was the President of this MC club and her actions had consequences. I grinned as I adjusted myself and swung my leg over my Harley, my hand already twitching at the thought of connecting it to her perfect little ass. 'Let's ride, boys.' I shouted as the sound of twenty powerful motorcycle engines roaring to life filled the air, and I drove out of the compound onto the road, turning right and heading for the spot where she would roughly come out of the woods.

"I... No, tha-thank you, bo—" "Eat!" A glare was adequate to have him down the glass of juice and three cheese and tomato sandwiches hungrily. "Thank you, Boss." I acknowledged it with a nod. "Now tell me what it is?" "It's the new motorcycle club in Yakima, The Venturi." "A new motorbike club?" My knuckles turned white from clenching them tight.

Jax ate like nothing happened, but his foot stayed hooked around hers. "Tell me about you," she said, needing to talk, to slow this down. "The Reapers, that's your club?" He nodded, his fork pausing. "Yeah. It’s a motorcycle club. We ride, protect our turf, and some call us outlaws, but we're family." "Dangerous?" "Can be." He set the fork down, leaned in. "But I like danger. Keeps things exciting." His hand found her knee under the table, sliding up her thigh. Slow and teasing.

though she was still debating whether to publish it under her real name or maintain the fiction of Raven Steele. The sound of a motorcycle engine echoing through the valley announced Jax's return from his weekly trip to town. She looked up from her writing, a smile automatically crossing her face as she watched him navigate the winding dirt road that led to their sanctuary. Even after all these months, the sight of him still made her pulse quicken—all dangerous beauty and barely contained power, though the edges had softened considerably since they'd left the world of motorcycle clubs behind.

My emotional state must have been written all over my face, because instead of dragging me back to the clubhouse, he sighed and took a step closer. "Come on," he said, softer this time. "Get on." Without another word, I climbed onto the back of his bike, wrapping my arms around his solid frame. We rode in silence, the cool night air whipping past us. He didn't head back towards the clubhouse. Instead, he took a different route, one that led us to a small, nondescript motel on the outskirts of town. We pulled up to the motel, and Death shut off the engine. He helped me off the bike, his grip firm but gentle. I followed him inside, the dim lights and musty smell of the place a stark contrast t

I asked. “Yep. Just some club stuff,” he said. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about but I do have to go.” “I understand. Ride safely, okay?” His crisp blue eyes connected with mine, and I held my breath because he was studying me, something else that all his brothers shared. His eyes raked down my body, taking me in as he revved his motorcycle to life. My nipples were standing at attention behind my bra as he straddled his motorcycle. I thought about what it would be like to take him right there on his bike and to suck on his cock until he came down my throat as his legs hummed with the engine underneath his body.

He turned to Leander and purred, "Tommy is a motorcycle aficionado, otherwise known as a biker with a local Motorcycle Club...who has a distinct affinity for little Hycinth here." Instantly, I felt tension rolled through Leander's chest. A fierce growl hummed out his throat, enough that Ever turned his head in our direction, his eyes immediately alert and searching for what had caused Leander's reaction. I tried to keep the panic out of my tone as I said quickly, "No. Don't even think about it! There's no romantic history of any kind there. He's harmless!" Luca snorted again, looking far too unconcerned for my tastes. "If you call staring at her tits all the time harmless, then yeah, sure."