Motorcycle Club Romance Novels & Stories

she asked. “The clubhouse. We have a meeting.” She sloshed around the remains of her coffee in her mug and looked up at him. “What is it?” he asked. “What exactly do y’all do?” Patch stared at her and tilted his head, scratching the scruff of his jaw and pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “We are just a motorcycle club that works at the garage.” “Hmm,” she mumbled. “What’s that mean?” he asked. “That’s all y’all do, really? Does it look like I was born yesterday to you?”

When I was walking to the bike I placed the helmet on my head and started securing it to my head. He climbed on the motorcycle and started the engine. I climbed on the back of the motorcycle and placed my hands around the sexy hunk. I could feel his muscles through his shirt it took everything in me to not rub my hands up and down his body. We took off towards the club area that me and my girls went to when I met this hunky man. We passed by the club the wind blowing my hair around felt great, I felt so alive so free. I started to realize that I had one week left of spring break.

•Music intro: 'Try me' by Temx • The steady noise of the motorcycle engine from last night still vibrated through Claudine, a wild rhythm that had settled deep in her bones. The ride had been intense. Terrifying, yes, but also thrilling in a way she hadn’t expected.

Ace remarked. "I'd still have to go to the Vet MC to talk with the ladies. Raine, Kim, and Sam are telling their stories." She explained. "That shouldn't be a problem." Ace replied. "And before you ask, I'm only writing about the romance part and names are changed. Nothing about real club business. Everything I write is purely made up. After all you have to have some drama and bad boy stuff to spice up the reading and keep the readers entertained." Pamela explained. "I have one question." Ace replied.

he said and pointed in the opposite direction where a sleek black Harley was packed with its helmet. Grace’s shrill voice filled the area in excitement as she sprinted towards the motorcycle, ignoring Dante. “Even better! I never knew you were a biker boy!” she yelled in excitement. Dante shook his head at her. “I’m not a boy.” he corrected and pulled up the seat to offer her a helmet as well. Once he got on the motorcycle, he turned it on and the engine roared to life. The few people leaving the club stopped to admire the sight of the biker boy and his girlfriend about to drive off.

Krystie POV Joker’s arm wraps around me, his presence as steady as ever, guiding me inside the clubhouse. The minute we step through the doors, it feels like the air shifts—thick with the smell of alcohol, leather, and smoke. It’s loud, rowdy, and everything I imagined a motorcycle club would be, but somehow it still catches me off guard. People turn to look at us, their eyes curious and lingering on me. I’ve never been in a place like this before, and I can feel the weight of their stares. But with Joker by my side, I feel a strange sense of security.

Boarded, up businesses lined Main Street, and the few people walking the sidewalks looked tired and worn. But the Iron Serpents clubhouse looked exactly the same. Axel pulled into the parking lot, and I climbed off the bike on unsteady legs. Hours on a motorcycle had left me stiff and sore, but that wasn't why my hands were shaking. The clubhouse squatted like a concrete fortress, all black walls and barred windows. Motorcycles lined the front, gleaming in the fading light. Music and laughter drifted from inside, along with the smell of cigarettes and beer. "Marco's waiting," Axel said, removing his helmet.

The motorcycle club's compound sprawled across three acres on the outskirts of town. By the time Ryder pulled up to the gate, my whole body was trembling—from adrenaline, from fear, from the feeling of being pressed against him for the past twenty minutes. "You're shaking." His voice was low, meant only for me. "I'm fine." But as I tried to swing my leg off the bike, my knees buckled. The world tilted. I braced for impact with the gravel, but it never came.

“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?”