The Endless Road: A Biker Erotic Romance (Black Death MC)

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

The Endless Road @ 2014 by A. L. Summers. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

THE ENDLESS ROAD

Logan Black opened one eye cautiously. 
Nothing.  He opened the other.  Still nothing.  Frustrated, he threw the pillow he had been holding.  He heard it hit the table and tip over something made of glass.  As it shattered, he felt a vague sense of satisfaction.  He was broken, and he wanted someone else to be broken with him.

He would learn to depend on his other senses, the doctors had told him.  A lack of eyesight usually resulted in better hearing or a better sense of touch.  He couldn’t tell any difference in either of those, so personally he thought it was a crock of shit that they said to make blind people feel better about themselves.

He listened to the sounds of the hospital around him.  He heard the beeping and whirring of machines, and the muted talking of the staff and visitors.  He couldn’t hear Paulina, his wife, but he knew that she was there.  She never left.

Thoughts of her were never far from his mind, and with his new loss of sight he forced himself to picture her in ever finite detail. He wanted never to forget her beautiful face, the little dimples when she smiled, the auburn hair that glowed red in the sunlight.  He imagined she would look tired now after spending so much time worrying about and taking care of him.

It had been almost a month since she was kidnapped.  He had done everything to protect his new wife, and hadn’t seen it coming.  She had left for a work trip and been attacked and taken from the office.  Terrorized for not telling the location of his secret files, she had endured more than he could possibly imagine and he was eternally grateful to her.  The files he could live without.  He would gladly give up his work, his power over the city, anything for her.  Living in a world without her would be blacker than his vision.

He heard the door open and close softly.  He was learning to tell the difference between people.  For example, he could tell this was the doctor by the way his shoes clicked on the floor, and the metallic click of his stethoscope hitting his name tag.

“Hey, Doc.  Long time no see.”  He winced at the pun.

“How are you doing, Logan?  Any improvements?  Symptoms?”  Dr. McDonald scratched something onto some kind of notepad that he always carried with him.

“Not really.  I thought I saw something wave across my face but I think it was just wishful thinking.  Everything else seems fine.”

He felt cold hands touching around his face and he flinched.

“Sorry.  And what about the pain?”  Ah.  The pain.  The pain that never left his side, never gave him a moment’s rest.

“Pain I can handle.  Not seeing?  That’s a whole other story.  If I can’t see, I can’t work.  I can’t provide for my family,” he trailed off hoarsely.  He tilted his head in the direction he assumed Lina was.  “I can’t even have a family.  I’m not going to be a burden, and I certainly can’t help anyone the way I am now.”

“I know, Logan, but you have to understand.  This is a process; uncharted territory really.  We have no idea what caused this.  We hope that if and when you get your sight back, it will all just be a distant memory,” Dr. McDonald answered.

He thought back to that day with Lina, tied to the chair, and him rushing into the room to save her.  He had seen the glint of a knife but much too late to do anything about it.  The kidnapper had sprung a surprise attack and, from what he had heard, he was the only victim.  The knife had done enough damage for him to lose his sight, and cause severe debilitating pain to radiate through his head on an hourly basis.

He remembered his life a year ago.  He had regrets, but knew that if the choice were to present itself again, he would choose the same path he was on now.  Well, maybe he wouldn’t have run into that room like a crazy person, but he would do nothing differently if it meant Paulina was still his wife.

Dr. McDonald ran a few more quick tests.  After each, Logan held his breath hoping that he’d find something to reverse the effects of the stabbing.  He never did, but every day supposedly brought them closer to figuring out the problem and finding a solution.

He heard Lina’s phone go off and it brought him out of his reverie.  He heard the rustle of her hunting in her purse.  She mumbled something to herself about being disorganized and he held back a smile.  The ringing became louder and then she answered it.

“Hello?  Oh, hey Dan.”  Logan sat forward on the bed.  Dan?  Who was Dan?  He reminded himself to unclench his fist.

“Yes, I received the email.  Thanks for forwarding it to me.”  He relaxed.  Must be work.  “Oh, he’s doing better.  Much better.  They’re releasing him tonight if all his vitals stay up.”

If he had a quarter for every time she told someone he was ‘much better’, he could afford that new Harley Sportster he had had his eye on.  He couldn’t be mad at her for saying it. She was trying to inspire hope in him, to get things back to normal.

But he knew they would never be normal.  She could pretend, but he couldn’t see.  That meant he was virtually worthless, to her and to the rest of the city.  He had taken a back seat in his motorcycle club, the Black Death, and was seriously considering resigning.  He couldn’t do his job properly and didn’t want the club to suffer.

Lina stood and propped herself on the side of the hospital bed.  She saw he was deep in thought and wondered what he was thinking about.  Her eyes roamed over his familiar face.  There was the new scar above his eyebrow, but she thought that it just made him more handsome than he already was.  He was thinner and paler than she would’ve liked.  The doctor didn’t seem too worried about that.

She ran her fingers down his arm and felt it jerk in response.  He sighed and she knew it more than just from lack of sleep.  It had been emotionally exhausting.  First her kidnapping, then his injury.  The only time they’d spent together had been in the hospital.

At least that will change after tonight, she thought to herself.  She hoped it would do him some good, being around familiar things, hearing familiar voices.  She knew it was wearing on him, as it was on her.

“How ya feeling?” she asked, linking her hand in his.

“I’m alright.  Same as usual.  Ready to leave.  Are you sure we shouldn’t get one of those little stay-at-home nurses?”  It was a frequent argument that they had.  She wanted to care for her own husband.  They had enough money for both of them to take leaves and still have plenty left over.

“You wish.  I bet you figure it’s going to come with a skimpy outfit and high heels?” she teased, running her fingertip along his.

He cracked a weak smile.  “Well, if that offer is on the table…”

She laughed.  “Not a chance, Black.”

She watched him scrunch his forehead and knew that after a moment’s reprieve, the pain was back.  He worked at not clenching his fist around her hand and she knew it was bad.  After it was over, she started to rub his arm.

“Pain is back, huh?  I’ll call Dr. McDonald.”  They both knew it wouldn’t do any good.  He was already on the highest dosage the hospital would allow.  Even if they could, Logan wouldn’t take it.  The last thing he needed after all of this was to get addicted to pain pills or something equally stupid.

He was released that night into her care.  They walked her through the familiar steps of caring for his wound, and caring for him.  He stayed silent through the entire process.  She saw the muscle in his cheek ticking, and knew that while this was tiring for her, it was beyond exhausting for him.  And he was not a man accustomed to being taken care of, that was for sure.

She drove them home.  She tried to get him to open up, asked what he was thinking.  He didn’t respond, just shrugged. 

He knew she had asked him a question but he didn’t have an answer he was willing to share with her.  What was he thinking?  What did she think he was thinking?  He tried to calm himself down.  It really wasn’t her fault.  She was doing the best she could, pretending that it would all be fine when he knew it wouldn’t.

He felt the car beneath them shift gears.  His first thought was that he’d never be able to drive a car again.  He would forever be a passenger in his own life.  He felt sick when he took it a step farther – he’d never ride a motorcycle again.  He’d been riding since before his license.  Before he had any business driving a motorcycle.  While he loved cars and engines, he lived for the wide open road and the wind rustling through his hair.  He would never have that again. 

His whole life was going to change.  He could no longer be the person he had thought he was.  Hell, he probably wasn’t even the person Lina wanted anymore. He looked towards her, an old habit now because he couldn’t actually see her face.  He had no way of telling what she was thinking anymore.

He reached out and grasped her fingers over the shifter.  She seemed to understand his dark thoughts and squeezed his hand.  He leaned his forehead on the cool glass of the window and tried to sleep the rest of the way.

When they got back to their home, she helped him out of the car and inside.  They ran through the furniture arrangements, the rooms he thought he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.  She tried to rearrange the pantry and kitchen so that he could help himself if she wasn’t there.

That night, he slipped exhausted into bed with her.  He could practically hear her thoughts going a mile a minute and just wanted it to stop, for everything to stop, just for one night.  He reached towards her and she scooted closer.  He propped his chin on top of her head and felt her big sigh.

They stayed silent for a few moments and then she murmured softly, “I love you, ya know.”

He stilled, thinking.  “I love you, too.”

“I don’t feel different towards you.  Everything that I loved about you then is still the same.  20/20 vision was not mandatory on my list for a potential husband,” she joked.

“No, but being able to dress or feed himself was probably a given.  It’s not very masculine having your shirt buttoned up wrong, or potatoes down the front of it,” he said darkly.

He felt her move and resettle herself.  Then he felt her soft touch on his face.  He tilted his head and pressed a kiss into her palm.

“I want to try something,” she said suddenly.

“Okay.”  He tried to be a good sport, but new adventures were not high on his list of wants right now.

“Just sit right here.  I’ll be back in a sec.”  He heard her get out of bed and walk into the next room.  A few seconds later, the bed dipped and she slid up against him.  He held back a moan, feeling her silky thighs graze his suddenly hardening member.  God, it had been too long.

He startled when he felt her hands reach behind him.  He lifted his head instinctively and felt something whisper-thin cross over his face.  He tapped his fingers over it.  It was some kind of cloth that she was putting over his eyes.

“It’s the blindfold you use on me sometimes.”  He recalled several occasions where he had tied her, blindfolded, to the bed, or a chair, and had his way with her.  His staff rose to attention at the memories.

She whispered, “Now it’s your turn.”

He got chills, hearing the sexiness in her voice and wondering what exactly she had in mind.  She dragged the covers off them.  He shivered from the suddenness, but he wasn’t really cold.  He felt her arms slide around him, lifting him higher against the headboard and then wrapping his hands around two of the square bars.

“Be a good boy,” she murmured seductively.  “Don’t let go of the posts.”

She wiggled off his boxer briefs and he heard them drop to the floor.  Cool air hit his body but he was warmer than ever.  He pictured his wife’s perfect bouncy breasts and soft flared waist.  Yes, he was a lucky man.  He didn’t need working eyes to see that.

He waited for her to touch him, but it took a few minutes.  Apparently she was getting an eyeful also.  Finally, he felt her finger-light touch on his nipples and he leaned into her touch.  She played with his like he played with hers, first gently, and then more firmly as he became sensitive.  When he felt her tongue touch the peak, he let his breath out slowly.  Her mouth moved to his ribcage, stroked along each line.  Her lips touched just below his belly button and he inhaled deeply and held it, waiting.  His body quivered in expectation, and he thought he was going to explode the minute she touched him.