Claimed By The Gay Bad Boy: A Gay Bad Boy Biker Domination Erotic Novel

I've never backed down from a fight. Not in the ring, not on the road, not when bullets fly. But this gun runner with his scarred-up trust? He's the one battle that has me raging inside. Defiant. Mouthy. Pretending he doesn't crave the boot on his neck I want to press there. One night, sweat pouring off us as we grind against that thumping jukebox, his hips buck against mine like a dare. I pin him in the shadows, breath hot on his neck, and whisper the truth: surrender to me, brother, or watch it all burn.

Our stakeouts turn feral with it. Huddled in the dark, bikes cooling nearby, his thigh pressed to mine until I snap. I shove him down, claim his mouth rough under the roar of engines, tasting the whiskey denial on his tongue. He fights it. Fights me. But his hands claw my back, pulling harder. In this leather-thick clubhouse where weakness gets you exiled, owning him like this? It's suicide. Club runs hang by our fragile loyalty. One wrong move, and his guns, my fists - gone. Yet every bruise I leave blooms like a promise. Every time he kneels in the back room, eyes locked on mine, I see the vulnerability he hides. The man who runs the arsenal but can't arm himself against this.

He thinks betrayal's his shadow, from brothers who sold him out before. I know. I've watched him flinch at handshakes, hoard secrets like ammo. But I'm the enforcer who sees through it - the ruthless one hiding my own ache for something real. Not just a fuck in the clubhouse haze. A claim that sticks, bones deep. Blood slicks my knuckles after I take a hit for him, engines drowning our gasps as I bend him over the bike. Possession roars louder than any Harley. What if his walls crack just enough to let me in? Or does pushing him to break drag us both under the weight of clashing oaths and outlaw hearts?

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E-bog: 23. april 2026