Novel & Cerita Motorcycle Stories

He let out the friendliest of smiles, making Anderson very uncomfortable. Anderson stared back and forth between Suit and the scroll. His mind was racing. The contract sounded simple enough. Straightforward, but he did not understand. ‘What did he mean by survive the stories? Did he not say I was going to tell a story? What does survive the story mean?’ Question after question popped up into his head. He could not help himself. He had no idea exactly what it meant, but one thing was for certain; He would not move forward if he did nothing but constantly question the situation

My ride was already waiting outside. ***** Sitting in my room engrossed in the book I am reading. After the visit to Sarah's house, I got home and no one was home as usual. My parents are very busy people. My dad owned various oil companies in Different countries and of course had to travel from time to time. My mum is a businesswoman. She travelled a lot too. Hopefully, she'd be around tomorrow. Deciding that the book was starting to bore me. I opened the I*******m app and started scrolling through the posts.

I took a nice long shower and went to bed after I was done talking to Zack. I kept myself busy with classes and exams in the next few days. I was doing well in all of my classes, and I also got into a summer internship program. Millie would be proud of me. I decided to take my motorcycle out for a ride. My mom tried to convince me to sell it ever since the accident, but I couldn't do it. At least a thousand times, I had to swear to her that I would be extra careful on the road and would not speed. Riding the motorcycle was my life. I couldn't give it up so easily.

My eyes searched the many vehicles for the nice black motorcycle I saw when I left for school earlier that day. It had moved since I last saw it. No longer right up front, but off to the side with the other finished cars and bikes. Rick once told me that a row of finished cars represented his money. When the owner came to collect, so would he. The motorcycle was black all over except for a silver plate that read Kawasaki and the grey letters on the side that read Ninja. It stood apart from the other bikes on account of how clean and new it looked.

I explain. The loud roar of a motorcycle engine catches my attention, and I look towards the source of the noise. It’s a guy driving through a few cars with a motorcycle clearly different from mine. He has a helmet on, and his face is hidden. His motorcycle is nice and seems expensive, but mine is one of a kind, and very elite. There are only sixteen models made. “Damn.” I say as I switch the phone to my other ear. “What?” He asks. “My motorcycle, my precious baby.” I whine, causing Chad to laugh.

A hidden mistake. The city air rushed against her as the motorcycle devoured the road. The sensation was foreign yet achingly familiar. She hadn’t ridden since selling her own bike years ago—for Dio’s birth, for survival, for a life that demanded sacrifice. When she arrived at Harmoni Medika Hospital, she slid the bike into its slot. But before stepping off, her gaze snagged on the machine parked beside her. A Harley. Black as midnight. Its body bore military markings—hard lines, unapologetic. And on its tank, faint scratches like battle scars.

Watching so many of you fall in love with this unconventional little family has been one of the greatest joys of my writing career. As for the Black Daggers… I have a feeling their story isn’t over. There are still brothers whose stories deserve to be told. There are roads left to ride, adventures waiting just beyond the next county line, and a few familiar faces you may not have seen for the last time. In fact, Nixx already has a story of his own being told on D****e, so make sure to go find it. If you’d like to see more from the Black Daggers Motorcycle Club, the best thing you can do is leave a rating and a comment. I read far more of your comments than you probably realize, and they genu

I asked her what’s up but she straight up ignored me while putting on her helmet. Uhm, okay? Man, what the f*ck is these days? It’s been weird sh*ts and I am f*cking seeing things. I really need to cut some coffee outta my body if I want to reduce the sh*ts I see. These days are really bizarre for me. We continued to drive until I got home with them and surprisingly enough, there is a motorbike parked just inside the gates. It is a Kawasaki Ninja h2r.

I only knew that because that was one of his hobbies back in school. “He told me once." I lied, and she did not look convinced. Either way, she shook her head in refusal before returning her gaze to the clipboard in her hands, a solemn look on her face. “He doesn’t race anymore,” she said quietly, and the sadness that conveyed her words piqued my interest. I figured that much out since I had not seen a single motorcycle since I got here. “Why?” I asked, and her eyes hardened. “Because the last time he did that, he nearly lost his life,” she answered, and it felt as though all the blood in my body had been drained.

"Talk." Maya threw her bag on the bed and sat down next to it. "Some guys from a motorcycle club helped me. They had a shop. Fixed my bike. End of story." "Which motorcycle club?" "Does it matter?" "Yes it matters. There are like three different clubs in this city and they're all bad news." Riley crossed her arms and did her I'm not leaving until you tell me face. "Which one?" "Iron Wolves." Riley's eyes went huge. "Are you serious right now?" Damn!!!