Sexy Bikers Novels & Stories

With weapons in their hands, they started roaming in circles around Avery. "Who are you guys? What do you want?" She asked them in dread. One of the bikers grinned, he squat down on her level and said, "You can call us your death." "Death..." Avery gulped at the word. Hearing her they laughed again. This time one among them asserted with a lascivious look in his eyes. "Look at her body, she doesn't look that bad. How about we f*ck her?" Avery swallowed and kept her head down, trying to think what could she do to escape them.

Having just witnessed Hycinth's blind panic and her response to my scent, he understood my intention. Thinking back to Sydney's suggestion, I murmured, "The bikers." "Yes. The bikers are more than willing to assist in protecting Hycinth while you fulfill your duty," he acknowledged quietly and then added, "They seem to have acclimated quite quickly to what has to be utterly strange to them."

Athena Chaos is supposed to be loud, but this was quiet. It didn't explode; it just sort of seeped into the clearing like a bad smell. The bikes rolled in with a low, oily growl. No chrome, no insignias just matte-black frames and riders who looked like they’d forgotten how to blink. The morning mist didn't stand a chance; the heat from their engines shredded it into nothing. Inside me, my wolf wasn't just bristling; she was pacing a tight, frantic circle, her claws snagging on my psyche. These guys weren't here to talk. They were here to see who bled first.

Asphalt Kings is the most popular bikers society in this city. The bikers aren't only madly good, but also madly handsome. Rumours say it's run by a powerful secret organization to launder money, and that's why they could snatch the road from government. But who cares? The boys just want to race. Here, Saint St. Graves is the top racer. Most girls come here only for him. In bed, he's A+, and on top of the bike, he's A++ Saint rules the road here. Like right now, everyone on the road is screaming his name except the jealous boys in the society.

The driver drove at a crazy speed trying to lose them. “Get down” Kincaid yelled at her before rolling down the window at his side. Serena vowed that if she escaped this, she would never complain of how ordinarily boring her life had become again. She did not want this kind of excitement. She wanted to go home. “Shit! Oh fuck shit!” she heard Bassett say and when she chanced a look out the window, the sound she had been hearing was not in her imagination. Masked bikers were rotating them, almost as if they were taunting their helplessness. Their sinister look was nothing compared to the pumping action guns in their hands even as they revved their bikes.

Law was feeling a little raw after finally getting revenge against the fucker that had taken out his family, but the son hadn't been there, so that meant we were still in it. I saw a hot new chick off in the corner, but she already had more testosterone on her than flies on shit. Since we had formed the club, there was more pussy in and out these doors than we knew what to do with. I'm not sure what it was about bikers and bikes that make women crazy, but I've never seen anything like it until now. I hadn't seen this one here before, though; I think I would've remembered that ass that my eyes kept drifting back to.

His head tilted slightly, tracking sounds the rest of us couldn't hear. There were six other riders. Seven total. I recognized Marc on the black bike, he was decent, played fair. But then there was Vic on the red bike, and my stomach dropped. Cole on the yellow. Jensen with the scar across his jaw. Three others I didn't know, but they had that look. That hungry, desperate look of riders who'd do anything to win. "That's a lot of competition," Sarah said quietly. "They're not competition," Orion said, and I heard the pride in his voice. "They're just in the way."

It had been full of questionable types, which he liked just fine, seeing as he was one such type himself, and easy women, which he didn’t like nearly as much. The problem was that easy women liked him plenty. He got the attraction, he really did. The ladies went for large, muscular, scowling bikers with big hands, and lots of tattoos. If they weren’t repulsed by his scars, then they found them a turn-on. They usually imagined that he’d gotten them in some badass MC-related event, and Scars never bothered to correct them. It was none of their fucking business, anyway.

"This is Addie. My best friend and sister-in-law." "Nice to meet you." Talia replied. "Yeah, same here. Paris is right, the guys are going to freak!" Addie replied. Viper, Cage, Steel, Bishop, Joker, Diego, and a couple other brothers pulled into the parking lot of the club. They parked their bikes and got off. Totally shocked at the motorcycle parked there. No one recognized it. The only thing they could tell was it was a woman's bike. It was a Harley, and it was black and dark purple with chrome. They hadn't seen anything like it. It was obviously a custom job and no doubt a very expensive one. A few of the guys whistled.

They don’t need to. The weight of their stares is enough. Draven bikers lean against their Harleys, their cut vests heavy with patches of skulls and wings, their eyes raking me down like I’m poison they’re forced to swallow. A few spit on the ground. Others mutter curses. “She’s a Voss.” “She’ll gut us in our sleep.” “She’s a curse, walking.” I lift my chin higher, biting back the scream clawing my throat. If I break here, in front of them, they win.