Novel & Cerita Possessive Biker Romance Books

Fucking hell. “You coming or what?” She asks, and I feel the heat rising up my throat. In more than one way, baby, soon, very fucking soon. I walk to my bike and straddle it as we watch and wait for Dante to straddle one. “Erm, whose bike is that?” I ask him as he starts it up. “Mine,” he says as he revs it a few times and I look at him in shock. It’s not everyday you see a man of the mafia riding a motorbike.

I lose my smile, thinking this. No domme worth her salt loses control of the situation. Out loud I say, “Thank you for your assistance, but I’m not the kind of woman who needs others to interfere in her business. And I’m definitely not the kind of woman who needs rescued.” As I speak, I keep my voice blunt. Harsh, almost. The same tone I used with Greaser Boy. But, to my surprise, my savior doesn’t react badly. He simply bows and takes my hand in his. Held there like I’m his Queen, and he’s my knight, he kisses my hand.

"I need to get out of here. They’re going to catch me." He looked at my dress, then at the cars speeding toward us. He let out a low whistle. "A runaway bride. That’s a new one." "Take me with you. Please. I’ll do whatever you want." The guy, his name tag said AXEL, looked me up and down. A slow, dangerous grin spread across his face. "Whatever I want? That’s a big promise, " "Just drive!" He didn't ask twice. He kicked the bike into gear. "Hold on tight."

I grin to myself, hoping she will let me give her a full back massage back at the estate later. I glance back toward the pine tree and see a pair of big, dark doe eyes peeking out at me while I stand there buckling my leather vest. I let out a cocky smirk when I realize her eyes are taking in every single inch of my frame. Her gaze lingers low on my waist. My inner boss lets out a dark chuckle. He is starting to take over the wheel. I hold onto the reins of control as tight as I can as I mount my bike. I drop my boots onto the footpegs, my hands gripping the handlebars. My brothers and I all ride massive, custom-built choppers with heavy frames. It comes with the territory of running the hig

It wasn't just desire; it was a desperate, primal need to feel alive before we walked into the jaws of death. He moved over me with a raw, possessive hunger, his hands marking my skin as if he were trying to claim every inch of me for the war ahead. I met him move for move, my fingers digging into the scars on his back, my voice lost in the rhythmic thrum of the town below. In the dark, we weren't a nurse and a biker; we were two souls forged in fire, preparing for the final blaze.

He stood, wiped his hands. I stood too. We looked at each other for a moment in the low light, and something passed between us that I couldn't quite name. Not warmth exactly. Not the sharp friction we usually generated. Something quieter. Something that existed in the specific register of two people sitting in the dark together, doing something real. "Why?" I asked. Quietly. He looked at the bike for a second. Then back at me. "It's a good machine," he said. "Deserves better than rust."

In fact, she had the same banner plastered to the wall of her apartment too. There were motorcycle helmets stacked perfectly behind the door, and a punching bag stood in one corner, looking worn out from use along with some dumbbells laying under it. On the shelves, tucked behind trophies and medals from games he had won, were books. Real books. They also looked worn out from reading, and she recognised some classics. They were books she loved, but never imagined a boy like him would ever touch. There was an open sketchbook on another drawer, with a half-finished sketch of a bike. She gasped, fascinated at how good he was. She reached down and slipped open the previous page of the book, and

I climbed on behind him awkwardly, not sure where to put my hands. "Hold on to me." I hesitated. "Lisa. Hold on or fall off. Your choice." I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressed against his back. He was solid muscle and heat. The bike roared to life beneath us, vibrating through my entire body. Then we were moving. Fast. I gasped and tightened my grip. Jackson handled the bike like it was part of him, weaving through traffic with terrifying skill. Wind whipped past us. My heart raced. I was terrified and exhilarated and completely out of control.

My gaze scanned his bike, and I saw that it had a realistic drawing of a silver-furred wolf with sharp golden eyes designed on the bike, along with a long line of smoky red flames drawn across the body of the bike. The biker was clad in a black leather jacket and putting on a sleek black helmet that looked different from the others. He gave off a different aura. A leader's aura I found myself being drawn to as I felt tingles between my legs. "Oh, my fucking goodness! Aleric Dolce came to college today?!" The girls squealed louder in whispers, blushing and barely controlling their excitement as they rushed forward to have a better view of the bikers.