Sexy Bikers Novels & Stories

"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."

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.

“You really are determined to destroy everything your father built.” Anger flared through my chest. “You grabbed me.” He tilted his head. “You slapped me verbally in front of half the city.” “That is not the same.” “No,” he agreed calmly. “It isn’t.” He turned to face me. “But what your little biker friend did inside? That is.” A cold knot formed in my stomach. Adrian watched me carefully. “You should know something about men like him,” he said. “What?” “They don’t survive in my world.”

One of them even took a step back. A slow smirk spread across my face. Oh, right. This. See, Travis himself wasn’t the big bad biker everyone was scared of. Honestly, the man was kinda basic. But his friends? The three guys he rode with? They were the real deal. The most ruthless, feared bikers in three counties and nobody, nobody, was dumb enough to mess with anything that belonged to them. Or, by extension, anything that belonged to Travis. It was the one perk of this whole miserable arrangement. I walked the rest of the way to the front door with a little swagger in my step, smiling to myself. I’d take my wins where I could get them.

I’m still in the stage outfit—tiny black bikini top straining over my hard nipples, thong soaked through, clinging to my pussy lips. Damien’s eyes rake over me, slow and hungry. His gaze burns everywhere it lands—my tits, my waist, the wet spot darkening the front of my thong. His jaw tightens. His chest rises faster. “Do you hate that man? Marek?” My brain is thick with lust. It takes a second to register. “Marek?” I breathe. “No. Why would I?” “Then why do things that could get the poor bastard killed?” His voice drops, dangerous. “You let him walk right next to you. Wearing this.” His hand gestures at my body, eyes flashing. “Did he touch you? Did anyone touch what’s mine?”

"Helmets on, guys. We're going for a ride." We left before dawn. Grayson appeared in the parking lot with a truck he'd apparently rented or borrowed or acquired by other means, loaded with enough supplies for a week, looking like a very large man who had understood the assignment. The twins went into their bike seats — one per Harley, helmets on, the four of them arranged like a very small tactical convoy. The black Harley leading. The red one beside it. Grayson's truck bringing up the rear.

I whispered as I leaned close to him, my voice dripping with desire. X exceeded all my expectations. He effortlessly spun me around, gripping the handlebars as I held on for dear life. The roar of the motorcycle was nothing compared to the sound of our bodies colliding in a frenzy of pleasure. And when I questioned how he managed to keep us from crashing, X only smirked and whispered something about his incredible balance and stamina.