Motorcycle Night Rider Novels & Stories

He asked. “Sure. I don’t mind it.” She replied. The guy sat with her and started a conversation with her. She learned that his name was Damon. He was part of a biker gang called Lobo's. He had a low-rider cruiser made by Harley Davidson. When he learned that she rode an H2R Ninja, he was in awe. It’s rare when you find a girl, gorgeous and sweet, loving fast bikes. She enjoyed that evening having an innocent, but simple conversation with Damon. He didn’t know it, but he helped her forget about her problems for a moment. It was one of the best nights she endured since the second she left home.

I would not beg. A motorcycle engine cut through the air, slow and deliberate. The sound pulled everyone's gaze toward the center of the yard. A sleek, black bike rolled forward, and my breath caught in my throat. The rider moved with a calm that spoke of power and control, as if the world bent around him. He dismounted with unhurried control. Kade Cross, they called him Ruin.

"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.

“What’s your name?” He hesitates, like he’s deciding whether I’m allowed to know it. “Jude.” “Nice name,” I lie without blinking. The corner of his mouth twitches. Is that… a smile? I keep going. “So, Jude. This Reaper of yours. Your boss?” He tilts his head instead of answering. Then I see it. The motorcycle. My stomach tightens and I rub my wrist again. Motorbikes have always meant bad things for me. Broken doors. Raised voices. Leather jackets and fear. Last night, the alcohol made me brave. This morning, the nightmares reminded me who I really am.

It helped to numb him further. He told himself that is what he needed to help him keep his distance from Amara. There was most definitely a pull to her. Although he could not understand why. It was as if his mind and body could not decide what they wanted. The dark sky above was clear of any clouds and the stars shone brightly above his head. Damascus hunkered down and pulled on the throttle of the bike. He liked to go fast, with no care to his safety, only to others around him. It was why he chose to ride at night mostly.

A new and limited edition Harley Davidson motorcycle, shiny black with red stripes on the sides, stops with a soft thud halfway through the driveway. The driver, a tall and athletic man, wearing a full-face helmet with glasses, a leather jacket, and knee-high boots, got off his motorcycle quietly. Everyone who saw him was deeply impressed by his dramatic appearance. The men admired the big motorbikes which were extraordinarily expensive and the women were curious about the face of the Harley Davidson rider.

He reminds me of the wolves in the pack in Tucson, a motorcycle gang of shifters who run cage fights and nightclubs and own the city streets at night. “This will be hard to manage without shoes, but I’ll do the driving,” I tell Jasmine as I stow the gun in the holster taped to my back and pat the seat. She pulls on the jacket and hikes up her skirt to mount the bike which is way too big for her. I place the helmet on her head and adjust the strap, then mount the bike in front of her. “Hang on, sweetheart,” I say and gun the engine, zooming in between cars. About a half mile ahead, I see the police have blocked the exit and highway,

Ry shrugged, and he wasn't even giving Judah his full attention. "I was hoping to get a sleeve done someday. But it's probably not gonna be for a while. I'm putting all my money on my bike right now," Judah was still enthusiastic in his replies. "You ride?" Ryder's eyes lit up all of a sudden. Oh, right. Ryder was also into bikes. For the first time this entire dinner, Ryder actually looked enthused. "Yeah, a 1993 Ducati Monster. I parked it outside," "Oh, dude, that's a classic," his voice warmed up.

I holler a confirmation on her order and she replies with a muffled thanks before I head down to the front door. The garage lights come on the minute the door opens and my legs move on autopilot to the Harley. I sit on the Motorcycle, ready for a joy ride and memories of that night come rushing back to me like a freight train. The engine flares to life with a dark rumble and the tires screech as I race down against the asphalt. I reach the nightclub, Clementrout by 8:47 pm and I order a bottle of Vodka to take away the itch that had turned to a need the moment I got on the Harley.

RED INK EP 28: Disposition • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • ~~~~ Fred's point of view~~~ His motorcycle was a tough zandor 880 with over 1000cc and could travel sixty miles per hour. He chose this cruiser because it was light weight and was very practical. The lamps in front of it were dim because he made it so. His eyes needed to do the seeing and any light could put his target on watch.