The Night Rider Motorcycle Novels & Stories

RED INK EP 28: Disposition • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • ~~~~ Fred's point of view~~~ His motorcycle was a tough zandor 880 with over 1000cc and could travel sixty miles per hour. He chose this cruiser because it was light weight and was very practical. The lamps in front of it were dim because he made it so. His eyes needed to do the seeing and any light could put his target on watch.

As for the females themselves, they’ve only heard about how much of a sex Adonis the man is through the grapevine! As Maya drove to the airport, where she planned to sell her automobile to anyone who was willing to buy it and then take off. Her jaw dropped when she spotted the Bugatti La Voiture Noire with the license plate of Lord Archer driving past in the distance. As soon as she squeezed the gas pedal, she realized it was her husband because she observed the other Maybach in the rear of the Bugatti La Voiture Noire. It had the same number plate as the Bugatti, which read ‘Lord Archer’. Panic took over what was essentially a Kia Rio in comparison to all of these other cars, but she slamme

“Gonna be a long ride.” The night was alive with the rumble of engines as we rolled out of the clubhouse parking lot, the dim glow of the streetlights flickering over our convoy like a strobe. The Warriors rode in tight formation, our bikes a unified force slicing through the quiet streets. Behind us, Viktor’s SUVs followed like silent predators.

"Thanks, Briar." "Don't thank me, boy," Briar mutters, turning back to his satellite screens. "Just make sure you survive long enough to kill Tristan Blackmoor. I want to see his pack flag burn before I go into the dirt." I don't waste another second. I pull my helmet over my head, lock the visor down, and step out into the cold night air of Nightfall Territory. The heavy engine of my motorcycle roars to life between my thighs, the vibration humming through my core, igniting the violent, restless heat in my blood. I kick the gear shift up and slam the throttle back, tearing away from the Silverfang Hall like a bullet shot from a barrel.

Suzan teased while he studied his present. It was a BMW R nineT. BMW offered several watered-down versions of this exact model, but Lucas could instantly tell: this was the flagship. The frame was matte black, beautifully juxtaposed with the bulbous fuel tank finished in sanded aluminum. The front forks donned a glorious gold, and the venerable boxer engine protruded at either side. It wasn't a sports bike; it wasn't a cruiser, either. It was a retro bike, one that harkened back to simpler times.

I see the exit. I reach the exit; I know the MC is somewhere behind me, and that’s ok. They will be pissed that I am here, but they can suck it. This is not only their business, but it is my family’s. I reach the diner at the exit and pull up round back next to the most exquisite bike I have ever seen. A Ducati Panigale V4. In all black with splashes of red. I shut the bike off and remove the helmet as I swing my leg around to climb off. I carry the helmet against my hip as I walk into the back of the diner.

I can’t wait to paint that pretty ass of hers red for this disrespect. He secured the scarf and swung his leg over his bike; the bright red Honda Fireblade gleamed as the early morning sun touched it, while Justin gave him a wide grin. ‘It was a mighty fine little ass to, pert and firm, perfect for spanking.’ With his mind full of the image of her naked body, he swung his leg over his more conservative jet black Kawasaki Ninja. Both bikes purred rather than roared into action, belying their powerful engines as the two men manoevred them gingerly onto the highway heading for their MC.

The fading afternoon sunlight cast a golden glow along the main boulevard of the city's business district that afternoon. The roar of a premium 1000cc sport motorcycle tore through the silence of the streets with its thunderous, ferocious engine. Seated at the front of the luxurious motorcycle, Tristan Vance held the handlebars with his steady hands, while Vivienne sat comfortably behind him that afternoon.

Ryder POV The roar of six motorcycles echoes through the mountain pass as we approach Nightshade territory. Jolie rides behind me, her arms wrapped around my waist, silver light barely contained beneath her skin. I feel her tension through our bond—not fear exactly, but anticipation. Like a warrior preparing for battle. Luna and Knox ride to our left, Cass and Phoenix to our right. We form a tight formation, pack colors visible on every jacket. Iron Fangs in bold silver lettering, wolf symbols stitched across our shoulders and backs.

He already had a racing bike, but he wanted to get one that could go on road and off road for gravel roads and trails. "I found the perfect early birthday present for you," Emily announced. "The Ventana Nemesis." Byron was in the middle of working something out on his computer, so he didn't look up right away. When he did, the motorcycle of his dreams was staring him in the face from the glossy catalog. "It's 400 CC engine will take you anywhere across the most rugged terrain," Emily continued, "And maybe I'll get one for myself too... a smaller one, like this Ventana Minion."