Sexy Bikers Novels & Stories

The bikers surrounded her, their huge cocks still hard, glistening from her juices. Blaze climbed on first, flipping her onto all fours. “My turn to wreck that ass.” He spat on her hole, then slammed in, his fiery red pubes tickling her skin as he buried himself balls-deep. Sable yelped, her back arching. Diesel slid underneath her, guiding his thick shaft into her pussy. Double penetration again, but this time with Blaze’s relentless pace, his hips slapping against her ass like thunder. “Fuck, she’s tight,” Diesel groaned, thrusting up to meet her.

Right now, I wanted all the names of the girls and boys living in that town. I needed both genders. From my research, most of the bikers were low-key gay men who wouldn’t come out of the closet but would touch young boys inappropriately. We live in a society where boys are not taken seriously when they talk about being abused or touched in the wrong places. As usual, the parents of these kids would never speak up. A biker was as deadly as a mafia mob. They were crazy gang members who wore vests and rode noisy bikes around town with no authorities to keep them in check. They’d do anything they wanted—sleep with different women, young and old, and men, young and old. They caused noise pollutio

After breakfast, Sam and Drake got dressed and headed to the MC compound. Samantha followed Drake in her Jeep. He had decided to take his truck today, instead of his bike. When they drove up to the compound, Drake blew his horn and waited. Nothing happened. Samantha knew that something wasn't right. Just as Drake was getting out of his truck to investigate, a shot rang out. Then several shots. From many different guns. He heard women screaming. Kids were crying. Here could hear the bikers cussing. Somehow, someone had compromised the security of the compound and infiltrated it.

The world turned orange as the blast ripped through the silence, sending a shockwave that rattled my teeth. "GO!" Ruan bellowed. The Phantoms surged forward, a wall of black leather and chrome screaming into the light. Gunfire erupted—not the muffled thuds of the assassins, but the heavy, rhythmic roar of the bikers' weapons. It was a symphony of chaos. I watched from the ridge, my heart in my throat. I saw Ruan dive off his bike while it was still moving, sliding across the asphalt and firing his revolver with a precision that was haunting. He was a god of the road, a creature of fire and lead.

"I'm doing this. With or without legal approval." Sarah closed her eyes briefly. "Fine. But I'm going to be there. With paramedics on standby. And if this goes sideways, I'm pulling you out myself." "Deal." As we walked out of the police station, I kept my arm around Lisa. People stared—we'd become infamous. The biker enforcer and his society bride. The alliance nobody wanted. "Jackson," Lisa said quietly. "That photo of your truck. You weren't anywhere near the Iron Wolves clubhouse that night."

The bikers started commenting, their voices mingling amusement and flirtation. “Where are you going, baby?” one of them said. “Do you need some help?” another chimed in. A third biker inquired in a deep and gruff tone, “Why are you all alone out here?” “Do you need some company?” he advised. The biker's remarks were becoming Sara more uneasy. she don't understand what to do now, she has been stuck. Sara tried to dismiss the bikers' remarks with a brief "No thanks," followed attempt to walk away. One of them, however, stepped in her way and stopped her. She raised her gaze at him; her eyes found his sly one.

Always trying to make their victims remember just how ruthless they could be. "I do not see you as a threat, more of a means to an end, so are we good to go," I said. This worm had wasted enough of my time. "We need a guarantee just to keep the good faith that you can keep your word," The biker girl said. I turned to Frank and nodded. With a burst of unexpected speed and dexterity, he grabbed his two handguns and three loud shots rang out and the three male bikers fell over their bikes never to get up again.

It’s as if SWAT merged with a biker gang. They don’t speak. They don’t blink. They hover. If they tell me they strangle people in their sleep with silk piano wires, I’ll believe them. One hundred percent. “You see those guys,” Brick whispers beside me as if he, too, can suddenly read my mind. “They are the elite of the super-elite. The best of the best. They don’t feel pain. Or fear death or taxes. Only the devil and Jackson.”

The other two bikers grabbed me by my arms and dragged me a few feet. I heard the bikers gag. Then suddenly I was free from their grasp. I steadied myself and turned to see the bikers dangling with their feet inches above the ground. Adrian had them by their necks, their faces turning purple as they struggled. He let them drop like sacks to the ground. “How dare you lay a finger on her.” Adrian’s voice was terrifying. His eyes glowed with rage. I could feel it rolling off of him. The bikers gasped for breath as they dragged themselves to get away from Adrian. Adrian picked up the leader and slammed him into the wall.

“They say that if the pipes are loud, ongoing traffic will hear them, but the sound from the exhaust goes straight out of the back end. All it does is make them go deaf prematurely—” “And piss pedestrians off,” Brennan grumbled. As the bike approached, I tilted my head to the side, recognizing that it wasn’t a Sunday rider on the back of it. “Biker,” Conor confirmed. “No tags,” I murmured. “Does there need to be? Nearest MC to us is the Sinners,” Brennan pointed out. “He’s not wearing a cut.” I lifted my cellphone and as the biker drove by, I snapped a photo, full frontal and a real beauty, then immediately sent it to Conor, whose own cell buzzed as he received it.