Iron Disciples MC 1 Joy Ride

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Eliza Stout
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"Even with his rough appearance, though, there was a sort of unmistakable animal attraction about him that I just couldn’t put my finger on..."

Hannah's boyfriend David is a writer who has been working on a book for the past three months that involves him tagging along and hanging out with the Iron Disciples M.C., an infamous outlaw biker club with a vice grip around the city's criminal underworld. When David decides to bring Hannah along to one of their wild parties, she is introduced to a world she never knew existed. This world happens to include the Iron Disciples' Vice President, Johnny, who quickly finds himself with eyes for Hannah. Will accompanying her boyfriend to that party ignite something within her that she never knew was there, or it will be the worst mistake of her life?

WARNING: This 7000+ word story includes plenty of racy outlaw motorcycle club intrigue & titilating graphic scenes. It is intended for mature audiences only!

Excerpt: My uninterrupted people watching exercise was cut short when I felt a short tap on my shoulder. I turned to see a tall man leaning cockily against the frame of the arch leading into the next room. He was actually pretty handsome – I could see him on a billboard for designer underwear somewhere out on a Los Angeles highway in another life. As it were though, his arms were corded with muscles that were definitely not just for the camera and the skin covering them was blotted out by tattoos. His dark hair was tossed about carelessly and he had a goatee that framed a strong jaw. Even with his rough appearance, though, there was a sort of unmistakable animal attraction about him that I just couldn’t put my finger on. He took a long draw from a cigarette and then casually let his arm fall to his side as he nodded up with his chin at me and smirked. “Hey, baby. You wanna see my bike?” I fidgeted nervously. “Um, no thank you.” He was wearing the leather kutte of the Iron Disciples M.C., but his vest was a little different. It was more decorated than some of the others I had seen around, and right over his breast was a patch that read VICE PRESIDENT. “What’s the matter, honey… you somebody’s old lady?” I wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that question. “Something like that.” He grinned and took another long drag of his cigarette. “Alright. Fair enough.”


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