Ghost Ride: A Biker Erotic Romance Read Online Free PDF

our meetings, with an owl in a cage strapped on the back of my bike. I’m surprised how easy it is to buy an owl. I found them right next to the parakeets.
     
    Shane and the rest of the club are there, milling about in the dark parking lot. It is late, nearly midnight and the restaurant is closed. Philip takes my owl and opens the cage. Then, he removes it and places it on Shane’s outstretched arm. Shane looks deep into the bird’s eyes, then with a gentle upward thrust of his arm, he allows the bird to fly away.
     
    “Why did you have me bring an owl, if you were just going to turn it loose?” I ask indignantly. Owls are easy to find, but that doesn’t mean it was cheap.
     
    “I am setting you free,” Shane says. “Your will is now as free as he is, your fears as silent as his wing beats, your mind as wise as his.”
     
    I look at Shane, wondering how many drugs he has taken in the past fifteen years. Before I can say anything, I realize that I do suddenly feel free. All my fears are quiet and everything seems so clear. I watch the bird, as it suddenly banks and swoops into a small copse of trees and disappears.
     
    “Right…whatever. You ready to do this?”
     
    “Whenever you are,” Shane says, as he begins to remove his clothes.
     
    What the fuck? “Shane! What are you doing?”
     
    “Getting undressed to race. What does it look like I’m doing? Get busy.”
     
    “I’m not undressing and riding a bike in public! Are you crazy?”
     
    Shane pauses for a moment. “Oh. That’s too bad. I thought you wanted to join the 417s.”
     
    I stew for a moment. Fuck it! I start undressing, but I have only gotten my riding jacket off before I start having second thoughts. Do I really want to do this? Do I really want this so badly that I am willing to risk everything for it? Getting caught riding through town naked on a bike would be humiliating enough; but if I were to crash without my leathers, I could be seriously hurt. I dither, torn, afraid of making a bad decision.
     
    Shane swings a leg over his bike. He sits astride of it as hums it to life, and then revs the engine. “Do it or don’t,” Shane says calmly. “But make a decision.”
     
    I take a deep breath and remove the rest of my clothes.
     
    ***
     
    The moment the flag girl… when the hell did she get here ... drops the flag, I whack the throttle open and dump the clutch. I have to lean forward to keep the front wheel on the ground. I am lighter than Shane by a good amount and my bike has a few special tweaks, so I take him easily on the hole-shot. By third gear, I risk a glance over my shoulder, my rich, red hair blowing in my eyes. Fuck! He’s right there! Right behind me! How is that possible?
     
    I am nearly at full throttle already, but I twist the grip to the stop. Shane and I flash through town, the street lights flashing like a strobe as we bellow down empty roads. I brake hard, inadvertently locking the rear tire as I lean to make the turn onto Highway 417. My mistake costs me and Shane slips through on the inside. As I bang up through the gears, my bike bellowing its war cry. I lean down, nearly pressing my tits into the tank, as I cheat the wind as much as possible.
     
    For the next eight miles, I claw back my lead, since my bike is marginally faster than Shane’s. 417 is a minor highway, but it is deserted. There should be brightly lit houses on the sides of the road but they are dark, like all the buildings in Moore. It is as if Shane and I are the only two people left on earth. We round a curve and I recognize my turn off point.
     
    I once again brake hard, my lighter weight pays off by allowing me to go deeper and brake harder. I open up a two or three bike gap on Shane before I dive for the turn, my bike dragging and scraping from my deep lean.
     
    ***
     
    The road is barely a twin dirt track with weeds growing in the center. Our bikes are road bikes and the dirt track is rough and slippery, making the bikes hard