Motorcycle Romance Books Novels & Stories

The tension snapped. They moved as if they'd done this before—in dreams, in fire, in mirrors. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, amber glow over the hillside as Dominique and Damien stood by his sleek, black motorcycle. The engine purrs as Damien revs it, the vibration sending a thrill through Dominique's body. He leans in, his breath hot against her ear. "Ready to ride, Dom?" he murmurs, his voice a low, dangerous promise. Dominique nods, her heart racing with anticipation. Damien straddles the bike, and with a wicked grin, he gestures for her to lie back against the tank, her head resting on the handlebars. The cool metal against her skin contrasts with the heat building bet

Maddox Black took the familiar turn and knew that he was getting close to his club. He wondered why his mind was getting flooded with memories of the first woman he had ever loved- the only woman he had ever and most likely would ever love. She was his first love and everything. He smiled sadly “Young love.” He would never forget her. Maybe things would have been different if she had agreed to elope with him. By now they would be married with kids and be the most content man alive.

I kissed his neck, sucking marks that appealed to something deep within me, whispering praises between licks. “My perfect boy. You feel so good around my cock. Love how you squeeze me.” He clutched at me, legs wrapping around my waist, calling my name in hushed gasps, each one fueling the fire. Sweat slicked our skin, the air thick with our mingled breaths and the wet sounds of me thrusting into him. I angled to rub his prostate with every stroke, hand wrapping around his cock to stroke in time. “Come for me, baby, let me feel you milk my dick. You're doing so well.”

The night felt really heavy. The rain had stopped,. I could still smell it in the air. It was cool and fresh. It came into my room through the little space I had left open by the balcony door. I stood there looking at the garden below me. The roses looked almost black in the moonlight. Everything outside seemed calm. Inside me everything was moving. I put my arms around myself not because I was cold. Because my thoughts were too loud. A lot of things had changed. Loving him meant living with things that were not always clear. It meant knowing that peace would never last forever.

Read the author's note first 1)The Biker's Obsession (Gangster, Ceo and maid romance) 2) A crush I can't date ( Have you all wondered this! Imagine two writers on GoodNovel fall in love! Imagine a writer and a reader like you fall in love ? Then you need to add this book to your library to find out more.

It was raining. Not violently, but with that relentless, heavy drizzle that seems to wash everything away but cleans nothing. Luca drove silently through the side streets of Brooklyn. The city lights reflected on the windshield, while Elena, wrapped in a thick borrowed coat, stared into the void. Only a few hours had passed since her escape, yet time felt distorted. They arrived in front of an old building with metal shutters drawn down. An abandoned motorcycle workshop on the outside. Inside, however, it was a different world.

she admitted, remembering the boyfriend in college who'd owned a Yamaha, the terrifying thrill of speed and vulnerability. "This is different. These roads, this speed—it's not a game. You hold on tight, you lean when I lean, and you trust me completely. Can you do that?" Raven met his gaze, seeing something vulnerable beneath the hardened exterior. "Yes." He nodded, swinging his leg over the massive Harley. She climbed on behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso, feeling the solid warmth of muscle beneath the leather vest. The engine roared to life, vibrating through her bones, and then they were moving, racing through the industrial district toward whatever revelation awaited her.

She was already suspecting where the boss's eyes were set. When she left the institute she had mentioned at that moment to young Romero, she was pleasantly surprised when he was waiting for her at the door of her work, with a tempting book in his hand, called, "The Mask of America", a wonderful copy just right for a history teacher. She couldn't say no to his invitation to have a coffee, but before going, she made a crazy condition, which consisted in going downtown by public transportation, because if not, she wouldn't accept the outing; he agreed to that little adventure. It was very funny for her to see the elegant gentleman with the clumsiness of not knowing how to get on a bus, nor know

Speaking of that, Griffin had a great scent, but her wolf remained indifferent. “Yes. I love the way the Sportster handles.” Bee spoke excitedly about her motorcycle. “I started with a Softail Deluxe but found it cumbersome with my height. It was too thick for my thighs.” Maria had meant it innocently but seeing Griffin's lips curl she knew what he was about to say. “I can give you something thick between your thighs,” Griffin winked. Bee groaned as her cheeks turned red. “If I want something thick between my thighs, I get a bigger bike.” Was she flirting? Her wolf rolled her eyes and decided to pay attention.

"Give me a second. Just, give me a second." She stayed still, full of him, and she could feel the bike balancing under them, the slight sway of it, and the wind in the pines and the birds somewhere below the ridge, and she moved, just a little, and he groaned, and she took that as permission. She rode him. Slow at first, her hands on his shoulders, rising and falling, and the bike swayed with every motion and his breath came rough against her collarbone and the wind carried the sound of them out over the valley below, and he watched her, his eyes on her face, his hands on her hips guiding the pace, and she could feel the way he held back, the way he let her lead, and she moved faster, and th