The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 1 (MC Chronicles #1) (17 page)

I wander the expanse of the full basement that runs
the entire length of the house. Four bedrooms, two baths, a small kitchen,
living room, laundry room, and a little office space, all done tastefully. The
décor might not be as elaborate or decorative as the upstairs. However, there
is something old-world and heartwarming about the basement that the openness of
the upstairs doesn’t encompass.

After much deliberation and arguments with the old
ladies, I take the master suite, into which I am shoved face first as the door
is slammed shut behind me. Giggles from the naughty old ladies penetrate
through the door, and I smile. This is going to be quite the lockdown, if I am
with constant female companionship. I don’t think I’ve ever been in that
position before. I’m not even sure if I know how to be a ‘girlfriend.’ I’ve
never done the gossiping shit or the caddy nonsense that a whole lot of women
submerge themselves in. I’m a straight shooter, no holds barred, what you see
is what you get, kinda gal.

Dropping my bag onto the bed, I unzip and unpack. I
wasn’t able to go home to gather my usual toiletries, clothes, and such. My
room at the clubhouse provided me with some essentials. Due to the late hour,
I’m just glad to be here and rest. It’s after two in the morning.

I spent the better part of the night delegating. Eight
club whores are shacking up in the main clubhouse. The seven remaining old
ladies, including Chelsea, are using my biological brother Brew’s house. Seems
as though his is the only one that isn’t rank, has plenty of sustenance, and
clean sheets. Not all that shocking, my brother is a clean freak. Now we are
here, my buzz has worn off and I’m ready to catch some Zzzzz’s.

I finish unpacking my luggage, and place my folded
clothes on top of the black dresser. This room is the epitome of a man’s
bedroom. Black leather padded headboard, gray comforter. No windows because
it’s a basement. The walls are light gray, with dark hardwood floors partially
covered with a gray and black striped rug.

Laying my bag next to the bed, I fold back the
comforter and climb in.

My phone goes off.

Well, shit!

Climbing back out of the bed, I dig into the bag,
retrieve my phone, and then hop under the covers once more.

I have three texts.

Big: How’s the house? There should be plenty of food.
Axel is on the porch. Holler if ya need me.

Big: Yo, Sugar Tits, get back to me.

Big: Bink, don’t make me call you or come down there.

Control freak at his finest. And we’re back to normal
Big vs. Bink, let the battle royal begin.

Me: I was getting settled in. I’m tired. I’ll talk to
you in the morning.

Curling onto my side, I leave the dim can lights on
for mood lighting. It’s soothing, like a womb down here. I genuinely love it.

Big: No. I’m wide awake, and I’m going insane.

That’s not good. This is not good at all. I know what
is going down has something to do with the run. None of the brothers, including
my daddy or my actual brothers, have been killed or injured. I would know if
they have. That shit isn’t kept quiet. But something is going down, something
big. Something that has the President texting me. Scaring me. Big Dick is not a
weak man; he does not admit weaknesses. Not to me, not to anyone. This text
right here is him calling out for help. I can feel it, deep down into my soul and
that scares the ever-living shit outta me. I don’t know how to help him. And
worse, he needs someone to.

Me: Do you need me to come up to the clubhouse?

Big: No.

Me: Big, if you need someone I’m here.

Big: No. It’s not your job. Sorry I messaged.

A siren is blaring in my head. Something’s not right.

Me: Are you okay?

I stare at my phone for five minutes. No messages.

Me: Big, answer me.

Five more minutes and my nerves are about shot.

Me: I’m worried about you.

Two more minutes of silence. Fuck this!

Hauling my ass out of bed, I change into a fresh pair
of skinny jeans and one of Big’s old black Harley t-shirts. Exiting the room, I
see Debbie and Jezebel on the chocolaty brown couch talking.

“Going to see Big at the clubhouse. Be back later,” I
tell them, opening the door to the basement.

“You sure?” Debbie inquires.

I faintly nod. “Yeah, Big needs my help with
something.” Climbing the stairs two at a time, I don’t wait for her reply. I
walk down the hall and to the front door, which is unlocked when I open it.
Axel and Pixie are seated on the front steps, holding hands, taking in the
sparkling star-filled sky. Where we live, we always have the crisp view of the world
above. No smog or lights to obstruct the pristine view. It’s pure, untarnished.
Something I don’t appreciate as much as I probably should. I’m glad they are.

“Big needs me.” I don’t ask for permission, when I
stroll past them and down the front steps, to head out.

“Prez said to keep you here. Not to let anyone leave,”
Axel explains to my back. I’m already down the front lawn.

Turning to peer over my shoulder, keeping pace, I
blurt. “Well, I’m going to see Big. If he wants to chew me out, then he can do
it in person. Keep down the fort. Don’t let anyone else leave, or I’ll have
your balls. And the front door needs to stay secure. Which, Axel, means
locked
.”

Two minutes later I am beating on the back door for
the assholes to unlock the damn clubhouse and let me in.

“What the hell do ya want?!” Gunz yells, yanking the
door open. He’s clad in a pair of boxers, sucker in his mouth and a fully nude,
chubby brunette on his arm, who has her hand down the front of his boxers,
gripping his hard cock.

“I want in.” I shove past him, and he mutters curses
under his breath, unlatching the chubby girl from his fuckstick.

“Sorry, Bink. Didn’t know it was you,” he yells to my
back. But I don’t stop to chit-chat, I’m here to see Big.

Rounding the corner, I head to his office. I know
that’s where he is. If he’s not sleeping or drinking in the common room, he’s
there.

I don’t knock. I quietly invite myself in.

Sitting at his desk is Big, reclining in his office
chair. A topless curly redheaded bimbo is seated on his desk, facing him, legs
spread. They’re arguing about something. He doesn’t appear to be very happy
with her in the slightest.

“Come on, Big Dick. I’ll let you fuck me if you eat my
pussy,” she baby talks, and I cover my mouth to keep from puking. She’s a
bimbo, a slut, and she’s immature… Great combination. You sure know how to pick
‘em, Prez.

“Listen.” He runs his hands through his hair. The
bandana is gone, and his long, thick brown hair is splayed over his shoulders
and back. I don’t typically dig men with long hair, but his hair makes me weak
at the knees. I’ve always loved it. Played with it when I was a kid whenever
he’d let me braid it or run a brush through it. Once, he even let me put pink
bows and flower clips in it when we played tea party. Picture that, a six foot
eight man, dolls, and funny looking hair, seated on a checkered blanket on this
office floor. Those were the days…

“…I don’t eat pussy.” I catch the tail end of Big’s
explanation.

That’s my cue. Purposely, I clear my throat. Both of
their heads turn simultaneously to see me emerge from the darkness in the
corner of the room.

“Bink, what are you doin’ here?” Big doesn’t sound
angry. Guess that leaves out the battle of the wits I assumed we’d have.

“I was concerned. Wanted to—” I don’t get a chance to
finish my thought because Big pushes up from his chair and powerfully strides
over to me, hair swaying, a naughty glint in his eye.

“Just go with it,” he whispers stopping in front of me
and dropping to his knees. I take a step back, but he reaches up and grabs hold
of my jeans to keep me rooted in place.

First my button is unlatched, then my zipper is torn
down, and finally my jeans along with my panties are yanked to the ground in
haste. The whore hasn’t even moved. She’s fucking watching us. She’s watching
him.

Oh fuckin’ shit, what is he doing?

“Big,” I chirp out weakly, swallowing hard, my heart
working overtime, as my pussy swells with desperate need for him.

Big Dick momentarily grins and stuffs his face in my
cleft. My hands intuitively grab a fistful of his hair.

“Fuckin’ A, Sugar Tits, you’re already wet for me,” he
hotly grumbles into my mound.

Holy Mary, mother of God, he’s right. I am wet for
him. I’m sopping wet. For. Him.

“I need a kiss,” Big whispers, his tongue jutting
forward, swiping across the hood of my clit. I moan, throwing my head back, relishing
in the purest shot of unadulterated ecstasy seizing my soul.

Pressing a hand between my legs, he pries my thighs
apart, to gain better access. Ducking his chin under my pussy, his nose buried
in my clef, I hear him scent me and groan. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever
heard, and it only makes me desire him even more.

Big’s thick wet tongue probes and lavishes my folds, drinking
down my dripping nectar from my throbbing hole. As he continues plunging his
tongue inside me, I come undone and cry out. My legs wobble and he grabs hold
of my hips, stabilizing me and eating my pussy like a divine art. He nibbles my
pussy lips between his teeth, then saws at my clit as he flicks his tongue over
the hardened bud, and my knees buckle. Big effortlessly holds me steady. My
perfect pillar of handsome strength.

“Big,” I whimper, wildly tugging and scrunching the
softness of his hair between my fingers.

“Tell me, baby.” A tooth intimately nicks my clit, and
I shudder. A white-hot spark of shameless euphoria branding me now and forever.

“Tell me,” he demands roughly, skating his tongue ever
so slightly over my aching clit.

What is this man doing to me? He’s driving me mad with
carnal lust. I want him now! Oh dear God, he’s amazing!

“Fuck me,” I brazenly blurt, unashamed by my desire.

Big chuckles robustly, “I can’t, and I won’t. This is
not for your pleasure, it’s for mine. I get plenty this way. I don’t need to
fuck you.”

My heart sinks. How is this about him? When it’s
clearly giving me pleasure?

I don’t get a chance to mull over my thoughts. Big
delves his tongue greedily into my depths, swirling inside, and my eyes roll
back, a coarse moan expelling between my trembling lips.

“You’re going to come,” he orders and deliciously
attacks my wanton hole. Over and over his tongue pushes into me, sweeping in
and out again. A possessive finger is added, thrusting wickedly. The sounds of
my pussy being finger fucked echo in the confines of his spacious office. With
the curve of his thick digit pounding into my special button and his mouth
latching onto my overly aroused clit, I’m a goner. My body tightens, and I am
catapulted over the edge with a long scream of pleasure following me. I come
ferociously, jerking uncontrollably in his expert hands, my body lost to the
magical onslaught of perfection.

Seconds, minutes later, hell if I know, I come to, my
eyes opening and the light flooding back in. A warm, sensual tongue glides from
my knee to my pussy on both sides. Humming in his throat, Big finishes by
cleansing my pussy with his mouth one last time before he sweetly pulls up my
panties and pants. I’m left with an orgasmic high and an angered club whore staring
hateful daggers at us both.

“I. Thought. You. Didn’t. Eat. Pussy.” The redhead
throws her arms over her perky breasts. I can’t help but notice that she has
undoubtedly the largest, fattest, sexiest nipples I’ve ever seen on a woman.
I’m envious of their size and perfect brown color in every way.

Big brushes against me and drapes an arm over my
shoulder, breaking me from my fixed stare on her breasts. “I don’t eat pussy. I
savor it, devour it, and make fuckin’ love to it. And I only savor
Bink’s
pussy. I don’t eat fuckin’ club
whores dirty, stretched out, smelly cunts. I don’t eat anybody’s. Except. Hers.
Ya got me?”

Now that was a whole lot of words and only five that I
am, ‘
What the fucking?
’ I. Only.
Savor. Bink’s. Pussy.

Let’s deconstruct that, shall we? And let them argue
this one out. It’s about to be a shit storm. I see it brewing. The air is thick
with clouded bitterness.

I—meaning Big of course. Only—well that is pretty
bold, signifying a singular thing. Savor—guess I wasn’t wrong about his
thinking of eating pussy is an art. Bink’s—that’s me. Which in this context is
nutso. Only Bink’s pussy. Think about that. Only…that word. Hot damn… What do
you think? I think he’s drunk and trying to prove a point. Or he has some
crucial explanation to impart on me.

Let’s dial back into this yelling match. Shall we?

“Get the fuck out of my office,” Big growls.

“Eat shit,” the redhead snaps, remaining on his desk,
lithe legs crossed.

“When this fuckin’ lockdown is over, your ass is gone
for good, Mandy!” Big shouts.

“Fine by me.”

This is going to go on forever. I came here to check up
on Big, and he’s just dandy.

“I’m outta here.” I try to shuffle out from under his
arm's weight. He doesn’t let me.

“No. You and I are gonna go to my room and get some
rest. This bitch can stay here. Not gonna waste another breath on her.” No
sooner do the words leave Big Dick’s lips, he feeds his fingers through mine,
and we exit his office, hand-in-hand, a screaming Mandy name-calling to our
backs. We go straight to his bedroom. He unlocks it to let us in and relocks it
once we’re inside. The room is the same as I remember - queen sized bed, blue
quilt, white walls, that’s it. A closet holds his clothes. The only personal
touch is a picture of me and him together when I was eight hanging in an 8x10
on the wall. No night stands. No furniture besides the bed. It’s sparser than a
prison cell.