Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 226

Storm POV

Holding Cloe in my arms was the best feeling, like ever, better than when I held any girl, who to me was just for self-gratification, even that very first girl that taught me how to pleasure a woman, now she was a beauty, and an older woman, who knew what she wanted and showed me, and explained why, best teacher, I ever had, everyone after her, was improving on that lesson, Not that I was that bad, compared to others, but I have had my fair share of ladies, although the past six months, I have hardly been with any, compared to when I first discovered ladies and what they can do to me. I lost interest in those at the club; they seemed the same. Boring. Sounds odd that a man in his hyperactive age would lose interest. I remember Dad saying something like that, although hurting a woman stopped him completely, he had reduced his time between thighs, before that fateful day.

I hadn’t expected Dotty to start washing Cloe like that, while in my arms, for me to see everything; I had thought she was just going to do what you could see. Poor Cloe must be mortified. She had been through so much already, and then this. Dotty couldn’t have thought about how Cloe felt at that moment….or maybe she did? This was Dotty’s way of teaching Cloe. She needed help, and sometimes that help you need will be embarrassing. I felt Cloe stiffen in my arms before she relaxed, as if she gave up the fight. If she had said no, Dotty would have had me carry her back to the bed and washed her there, with the curtains closed, keeping it private. Maybe in Cloe’s home life, she had never been given choices. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she were the one doing all the chores at home and doing her father’s and sister’s bidding. In a way, it was like Fixer, having to stay hidden and hope for the best. But by the sounds of it, and according to what the doctors told Mum and Dad, this girl had a few beatings in her life, old breaks that had never been treated; she may have given up fighting for what she wants, might also be why she appeared to have accepted the loss of her legs so well, or maybe still to soon to make that call.

My arms pulled Cloe closer to me, and I agreed, holding Cloe was better, much better, for me, than it was for her, while Dotty did what was needed to be done. Dotty had at last finished washing her and pulled out two PJ sets from the bag Mum had brought in yesterday, and offered Cloe a choice. They had cute, pandabear ones; a button top and shorts, so they didn’t need to fight removing the bottoms when checking her dressing, while in the hospital; one blue, the other green. Cloe chose the blue, with a smile. I leaned back, pushing Cloe forward a little bit so Dotty could put the top on, and I stood up, letting Dotty access her stumps, and she put on some panties and then the PJs shorts. I looked out the window while they changed the bottom half, not wanting to embarrass Cloe further. I think she noticed that, little I could do to make this better, she had to learn that in the beginning, Cloe will need a lot of help.

“There, all done, you can put her back in the bed, when she’s ready, lunch will be here soon. I will leave you two alone and be back later for the next round of observations. Use the call button if you need me.” Dotty left, pushing the lined cart with her, humming happily to herself. I haven’t called her Grandma; it didn’t feel right. I know she’s married to Savage, my Grandpa, but it didn’t feel right. She’s always been Nurse Dotty, and changing that didn’t do it for me.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” I whispered in her ear. She was back against my chest, tracing a tattoo

on my arm with her finger. A learner did it; he botched it, and Zero fixed it the best he could. Let’s say that guy doesn’t touch the tattoo gun any longer.

“Can I stay here a bit longer, or do you need to work on your laptop?” Cloe answered in a meek voice. Cloe was already a bane for me. I would give her the world to help her feel more confident and build her self-esteem.

“Stay here as long as you want.” I kissed her earlobe, and she shrank up and wiped her ear.

“Tell me more about the accident? I don’t remember much.”

“It was on the news, you can watch it when you are up to it,” I suggested, wondering if watching the accident would give her nightmares, and not the way to go.

“No, I don’t want to see it, but talk to me, tell me what you saw and did. I want to know why they say you saved my life.” Cloe urged, snuggling into me. So I did, the whole accident, from watching it happen, till she ended up in the chopper. She listened, not asking questions or crying. It was weird, like she was listening to someone else’s story, not her own.

“What happens to me now?”

“Back up. Sweetheart, look at me.” Dad pushed her chin up with his finger. She could have resisted, but she didn’t.

“You are a beautiful young lady; your legs do not define you. Yes, having them would be nice, but you don’t until we can get you some new ones. Until then, we have a motorized wheelchair coming, and a hand-propelled one, for around the house. We have fixed up Storm’s bathroom, and when the doctor says you can come home, which I believe will be soon. One of us will always be around to help you up and down the stairs. As far as a job goes, what do you like doing? What do you want to try to do?”

“You will do all that for me?” Cloe was crying now, silent tears running down her face. I expect a lot more of those until she finds herself.

“We are doing it for you. You deserve it, plus Storm will be annoying for ages if we don’t.” Mum chuckled, her hand brushing Cloe’s hair from her face.

“Would you like me to brush your hair?” The shocked look on Cloe’s face was priceless, and the quick nod in agreement made Mum smile, and her eyes twinkle. Mum loved brushing Penny’s hair, till Penny said she was old enough to brush her own. Penny only seeks Mum out when she wants something special done, and Penny can do it herself.

I carried Cloe back to her bed and sat her in it, sad that my cuddle time was over. Mum opened a makeup bag, and inside were clips, hair ties, and anything to do with the hair and face. Mum started with the brush. Cloe’s hair was shoulder-length and needed a trim because it was full of split ends, something Mum would sort out, or Nightingale, she was the hair stylist, out of all of us, the girls would have a girls’ day, and get her all glammed up, make her feel pretty again. To me, she was already pretty. But the girls’ day was for her, not for me or my preferences. I want to see her face light up with joy, and I want to be the one to make her smile and laugh.