The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 1 (MC Chronicles #1) (18 page)

“Lay down,” Big orders, entering the attached bathroom
and shutting the door. I sit uncomfortably on the edge of the mattress, and
three minutes later he returns wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. Hot,
defined muscles open for one to feast their eyes upon. Not that I’m going to
feast or anything ridiculous like that.

Big throws back the covers on his neatly made bed and
crawls in, patting the pillow beside him, a faint dimpled grin peeking from the
corner of his mouth. “Come on, time for some sleep,” he says.

“Why would I sleep here?”

“You were worried about me. You came. I got my pussy
fill to tide me over. But I am going to be hungry in the morning. Now get some
rest. You can shower in the a.m. I’ll fill you in about the lockdown after I
get some more of your tasty cunt.”

You’ve gotta be shittin’ me!

“No fucking way,” I blurt.

“Two choices, Sugar Tits. You willingly lay the hell
down and catch a few winks with me.
Or
,
I eat some more pussy now, and
then
you catch a few motherfuckin’ winks. I’m cool with both, baby.”

The nerve of this self-righteous fuckhead!

“Do you have any idea who in the hell you are talkin’
to? I am not a whore, asshole. I will not be paraded around as such.”

Leaning up onto his elbow, he impishly smirks. The
bastard
smirks
! “I know that,
bitch. And yes, I know who I am talkin’ to. I’m talkin’ to the woman who has a
pussy that smells like ripe peaches and tastes like heroin.”

“Tastes like heroin? Have you ever tasted heroin? That
would be a
no
. I know you well
enough to know that for sure. And for a second, I thought you might be smart, seein’
all those books you have in your house. But I’ve decided that all of your
brains have gone straight to your fat cock. You’re dumber than a hoe handle.” I
wave my hand in the air, flipping him the bird, and stalk straight over to the
door. I’m done with this bullshit.

I flip the first lock, and before I move to the second
Big picks me up by the waist, hoisting me off the ground. I kick at him and dig
my nails into his hands. The fucking gorilla is too strong.

“Stop it!” I scramble, and he drops me onto the bed,
stomach first. Trying to get away is impossible; he maneuvers lightning fast so
he’s straddling my back, facing my ass. Frustrated, I kick and scream into the
mattress, while he laughs triumphantly, one hand pinning my hip to the bed.

I hear a faint click and bear the cold harshness of a
blade’s tang against my soft skin. I shriek in fear of what may happen next.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’, you want me to cut you? I’m
cuttin’ off your clothes.”

I freeze, holding my breath, the sharp blade sawing
through the fabric of my jeans. I don’t move. I’m more afraid of getting cut than
becoming naked. My jeans go bye-bye, into a heap of mangled material on the
floor.

“See, asshole, my pants are off. Now get the hell off
me.” I buck up in the bed, but he’s a monster, and doesn’t budge a single inch.

“Don’t move,” Big gently explains, inserting the cool
tang of the blade against my panties and immediately those are discarded too.

A little more shuffling above me, and Big grabs hold of
my wrists that are sprawled above my head resting on the bed, tired. Tired of
trying to push myself up with him sitting on my back. I got off a few pinches
on his legs and back in defense that will surely bruise. But of course, like
always, they didn’t faze him.

Something hard and chilly encases my wrist. Craning my
neck, I glance up.

Oh my God!

“What the hell are you doing?! Are you going to rape
me!?” I’m shrill. “My brothers will be mad, and my daddy will be furious.” I
attempt the impossible, by trying to pry my wrists from Big and him clicking
real handcuffs into place. Yet, again, no such luck. I close my eyes and admit
defeat. If I am raped tonight, I will never forgive him or myself. Why did I
come back to this room with a beast?

Big dismounts my back and flips me over. Grabbing hold
of my cuffed wrists, he ties them to the headboard with one of his leather
belts. I refuse to fight him. I give up. This is my sentence. I’ll just have to
bear it.

Lying next to me in bed, he cuddles up to my half
naked body. My shirt has been left in place for whatever reason. I guess you
don’t need tits when you can fuck a pussy.

“Hey.” He pats my cheek with two fingers. “I’m not
going to rape you. I am not going to hurt you. But you weren’t listenin’ to me,
like always.” His voice is smooth as silk.

I turn away and stare at the wall. I can’t even look
at his disgustingly handsome face.

“You hurt me.” This isn’t a lie. I might not be
physically hurt, but I am emotionally distraught.

“Yeah, well, you’ve hurt me more times than I’ve ever
hurt you. You just don’t know it. So for argument’s sake, let’s just say we
both hurt each other.”

“Whatever,” I snap.

One of Big’s warm, calloused hands glides down my leg,
stop at my knee and sensuously slides back, ending at the apex of my pussy,
where there’s a tiny dusting of pale blonde hair. Delicately, Big runs his
fingertips over the sensitive skin, forcing goose pimples to flare across my
entire body.

“You’re a beautiful woman,” he rasps.

“There are lots of beautiful women.” My retort is
weak, I know this. However, it’s true, and I refuse to think he hasn’t told a
hundred different women the same line. Probably ordered them around like this
too. And tied them up with these exact cuffs in this exact same bed. The
thought sends an awful tremor of revulsion up my spine.

“How many bitches have you fucked in this bed? How
many pussies have you licked in it? How many have you tied them to the bed just
like this?” I yank on my restrains for effect.

“I’ve fucked a lot in this bed. I don’t fuck ‘em in my
house; this makes for the only place to do it. Well, here and their place, of
course.”

‘
Of course
.’
I roll my eyes.

“Just so you know, I haven’t licked anyone’s pussy in
here. I’ve only ever licked one other woman’s in my life. Makes it pretty hard
to lick her pussy in here when I was thirty-two, and she hadn’t the slightest
fuckin’ clue I was a biker. Let alone a Prez. And those handcuffs are never
needed, Sugar Tits. I sleep with them for protection. Never had to use ‘em
before in the heat of passion because women don’t fight with me in bed. They
openly spread their legs. Shit, half the time, they ride my cock like it’s a
fuckin’ bull.”

“You’re a disgusting pig! And this is
not
the heat of passion!” I squeal,
clenching my fists in anger, wishing I could sock him in the throat. God, why
is he such an asshole?

“You’re right, I am a pig…honesty hurts, baby.” He
pauses, tickling the patch of skin just where my slit of my pussy parts.

“And it will be. Heated. Fucking. Passion.” Big’s sure
finger glides into my cleft, immersed in the blazing heat of my core and rests
itself atop my oversensitive clit. Using the tip of his nail he delicately
scratches back the hood, compelling my clit to harden and peek out of her
smooth pink shell.

“Ahhh, there she is.” He firmly rubs my bud and I
squirm, biting my bottom lip to keep from moaning. He can’t win. I won’t let
him.

Skimming his finger downward between my lips, he
teasingly circles around my eager hole and descends toward my ass. My hips buck
to keep him from touching the spot I rarely let anyone near. A place I don’t
want him stirring up, even deeper feelings of desire.

“No,” I vehemently hiss, moving my hips away.

Big shoots up in bed, fear written all over his face.
“Did someone hurt you there?” His hands come down onto my hip bones, shoving my
lower half firmly into the mattress.

My eyes shoot to meet his, and I feebly shake my head.
“No, I don’t share that with just anyone. Not you. Not now. Not ever. You truly
are an asshole.” I all but spit acid in his face with my coarse words. That is
not a place for him to tease and claim as his. Like he has already done so with
some many places of my body. I have to… No… I need to, for my own sanity, keep
that one place void of his perfect touch. I know if that one part of me is breached
by him, by the way my body is awakened sexually by his haunting smell, and
smooth, yet possessive touch, I will be a goner, broken for all men that come
after. If that hasn’t already been cast in stone, it will be, forever.

My brash words must have deflated his sexual cravings.
Big removes his hand from my privates and uses it to lightly caress my soft,
naked thigh with lingering strokes. We don’t speak for a good long while, both
of us accepting the quiet. Luxuriating in it. Big’s deep breathing eventually
lulls me into a deep peaceful slumber.

Monday, September, 9, 2013

“Oh, Big!” I cry out in ecstasy, coming apart at the
seams, bowing my back off the bed, my toes sharply curling into the plush mattress.

Twitching back down to reality, my breathing evens
out, and I curl onto my side. My fingertips dust across Big’s well-defined
bicep and the eagle tattoo that resides on it.

“I think you came sexier just now than you did last
night or earlier this morning.” Big offers me a heartwarming smile that makes
my insides all gooey.

I woke up this morning in a panic that I had to go to
work today to have that meeting with my bosses. Big was up and gone by the time
I awoke. I laid in bed for less than twenty minutes before he returned with
cream filled donuts, my favorite, and a submitted job resignation that he’d
already faxed over to my work, as well as a new job working as the bookkeeper
and manager over at the auto repair shop we own and run. I was fuming at first
for his flagrant disregard for my thoughts and feelings on the matter. That
feeling flew away rather quickly when Big decided to feed me doughnuts by hand,
while he fingered my greedy pussy. Dear God…that was life altering. And
suddenly I couldn’t remember my own name or why I was ever angry with him in
the first place.

Once I’d finished coming, he willingly unhooked my
cuffs. My wrists are still a bit tender but nothing I can’t live with. Since
all of that, we’ve laid in bed and discussed the lockdown. A rival MC is
threatening us. They were spotted three towns away, loaded down with guns and
ammo. They are also the ones causing trouble with the run my daddy and brothers
are on. Something about a drop gone south. I know there isn’t much he can tell
me in terms of details, although he’s been rather forthcoming with the rest.

That lengthy conversation concluded and Big dove for
my pussy. I think I could get used to this coming everyday kind of thing. Big
would or will make a fantastic fuck buddy. Wish I would have thought of it
sooner. Even though he won’t stick it to me, for whatever reason. Morality is
my guess. I relish in the onslaught of his powerful tongue and deft fingers.

“Now that it’s past noon, what’s on your agenda today,
Prez?” We are both resting on our elbows, facing one another in the bed. I’m
naked from the waist down. I took a shower after our talk, and now I’m decked
out in one of Big’s newer black Harley shirts. As usual, he’s wearing his cut, a
t-shirt, jeans, and black shit-kickers. Lookin’ mighty fine. Although, I’m a
bigger fan of him out of his clothes. Not that I’d ever tell him that or anyone
else for that matter.

“Well…” He wickedly grins, tugging on the hem of my
shirt. “I was hoping to keep you in bed all day. Seeing as though you are sexy
as fuck with your hot pussy always ready for me.”

“I am not allllwayss ready,” I drawl out with an
innocent smile, batting my long eyelashes.

“Oh yes, you are. I’m startin’ to think you’re wet
twenty-four, seven.”

“Am not.”

“Are so.”

I roll my eyes with a dirty grin, whilst Big’s phone
begins to ring. Dropping onto his back, he yanks it from his pocket.

“Fuck,” he snarls, lips curled, baring his teeth as he
reads the screen.

“Big,” Gunz’ distinct voice yells through the locked
door, followed by mild knocking. “Big.”

“What?!” Big Dick barks.

“You better answer your phone, man. She’s been blowing
up mine and your office. You don’t want her comin’ down here,” Gunz explains
through the door and leaves.

“Fuck,” Big grumbles under his breath just as his
phone begins to ring once more.

Scrubbing the prickly stubble on his cheek, he answers
the call. “Yeah?” – “No, you are not comin’ here.” – “No, you’re not in any
danger.” – “My decision to cut you loose is my own damn business, Linda,” he
huffs.

“Yeah, I get it.” – “Hell no, I’d never claim you. How
many times do I gotta tell you this?” – “Ten years. I know.” – “Why wouldn’t I
fuck you for that long? You got a pussy, don’tcha?” – “Stop your yellin’,
bitch.” – “No, I don’t think I should have to listen to your whiny bullshit.” –
“No, you are not comin’ here.” – “Fine, you can go right ahead and try, but you
won’t get through the gates. White boy won’t let you.” – “Why am I being an
asshole? Are you out of your fuckin’ mind? You crazy whore.”

The phone blares to life. I can hear her screaming at
the top of her lungs. Big just shakes his head, exasperated. I don’t get why
he’d listen her to rant. Guess I don’t need to as long as she doesn’t come
around here. That’s not a good thing for any of us.

“Alright, fine. I get it. You’re not a whore. But you
are a stupid cunt. Now stop wastin’ my time tryin’ to find some lame ass excuse
to get back into my bed. It ain’t happenin’.” – “Yup that is what you are
doing. Don’t insult my intelligence, Linda.” – “Yes, she is.” – “That’s none of
your fuckin’ business.” – “I’d like to see you try. If she doesn’t kill you
herself, I’ll do it for her, or let Gunz, Brew, Steel, Jizz, Viper, Mickey…need
I go on?” – “Didn’t think so.” – “Stop cryin’.”

Big tilts his head back, smashing it harder into the
pillow. I scoot to his side and run my hand across his chest and down his abs,
which causes him to groan and wrap his big hand over mine, gliding it up and
holding it to his heart as he continues his hostile argument with Linda.

“What can I get ya?” I line up the paper plates along
the short kitchen counter in Big’s basement. It’s dinnertime, and I cooked
meatloaf with instant mashed potatoes and corn casserole. Now…don’t get all
grossed out on me, I know they’re not real potatoes. We’re out, and he doesn’t
have a hand mixer anyhow.

“Don’t you let them boys sit on their behinds like
their daddy,” Debbie says from across the room, folding a fresh load of
laundry. “Now you boys get up and serve yourself. Bink was kind enough to cook
for us,” she finishes, admonishing her strapping boys.

Jordan’s twelve and every bit of a looker as his dad,
with short wavy brown hair and green eyes. Craig, the oldest, is fourteen and a
spitting image of Debbie, thin as a rail, great bone structure, and plump lips.
Great for kissing all those girls he flirts with, I’m sure. Although I’m
leaning toward him having a thing for ladies of the older variety. The boy fits
in with all of those depraved bikers that I love dearly, with his boob staring,
ass pinching, and I can’t state this for certain…but… I think Dallas, on a
night Debbie was caught up in her ‘shows’— there’s a lot of them, anyhow, I
think Dallas convinced one of the whores to blow Craig. I wasn’t there, but
juicy gossip spreads like wildfire ‘round these parts, and Debbie was fumin’
for a month.

The boys see themselves to dinner, and I drop onto the
couch to take a load off. The first official day of lockdown. I’m not sure
which I hate more, the whores complaining all the damn time about one stupid
thing or another, or maybe it’s the old ladies at my brother’s house that have
called me six different times to ‘help’ them with this or that. Please, it’s
like they’ve never seen a dishwasher or a gas stove before. Where in the hell
have they been living? Under a rock? Is it really that hard to check the
drawers to find a manual can opener? It’s been a fucking nightmare, to say the
very least.

“How’d Big’s go last night?” Jezebel strolls into the
room, wearing a zebra printed night gown and plops down onto the couch beside
me. “Well?” She suggestively waggles her eyebrows and makes a kissy face.

Playfully, I bump into her shoulder. “None of your
business, nosy,” I tease.

“Now, you boys eat at the table,” Debbie orders her
sons, who are carrying their plates into the living area. It’s not really a
‘living room’ since the kitchen is one long wall behind the living area,
complete with a tiny breakfast nook. Or that’s what I’d call it. It’s made up
of a petite table and two chairs. The thought of Big even attempting to eat
there makes me want to mock him and laugh hysterically. Not even sure if he
could sit in them. They’re too small.

“If I’ve learned anything from that girl,” Debbie
joins in on our conversation, humorously shaking a washcloth in Jezebel’s
direction. “She is relentless. Some of the crap she pulled out of me last night
would make even my old man blush.”

“See.” Jezebel curves her back into the corner of the
couch, hitching her right leg onto the cushion. “Might as well tell me. I’m an
obstinate bitch. I always win.”

Lightheartedly I cross my arms across my chest.
“Well…” I exaggeratingly sigh. “Guess, I would have to tell you that I let
him…no, I mean I kind of let him go down on me,” I explain nonchalantly.

“Oooooo, girlfriend, I need details.” Jezebel sits up,
rubbing her palms together. This crazy woman is like a crack fiend for a juicy
story.

I offer her the rundown of the night’s festivities and
this morning. Adding the bits about Linda’s mood killing bitch fit and Big
getting called away on some club emergency. As soon as he left, which was right
after Linda’s phone call, I took another shower and spent the rest of the day
thinking about his tongue, hands, and most importantly the way his body curled around
mine in our own sort of cocoon last night when we slept. That was by far the
closest I’ve ever slept with any man in my entire life, but I can’t tell my Sacred
Sisters that.

“That’s it? He didn’t sleep with you? Kinky handcuff
foreplay and the man cuddles next to a half-naked woman to
sleep
? When he could be fuckin’ her?
Jesus H’ Christ
, I think Bulk should
revoke Big’s Man Card. I wouldn’t believe it, if anyone else had told me. Shit,
girlfriend that sucks.” Jezebel’s thoughts ring true as her southern accent
heightens the meaning of every word.

I couldn’t agree more. I’ve wanted it since I was in
his office. It’s a slow, agonizing torture I don’t think is going to let up
anytime soon. Big has made it known that he has no desire to stuff his big fat
dick in me. And that causes a kind of sadness or frustration, not sure which,
but it’s something I’m unaccustomed to. I don’t have to beg for it - never had
to and never thought I would. Seems as though I was wrong about that. I’ll give
the man a little credit; he sure knows how to please a woman and control his
own urges. The first night he might have beat off when we did, well, you know.
Since then, not once. Oh, I know he’s hard. That’s impossible not to notice.
Using it or touching it though is nonexistent.

“Yeah, I would have to agree—” my words are clipped
short by the sound of gunfire.

Debbie’s eyes get huge, and Pixie, along with Candy
Cane sprint into the room.

Without hesitation, I snap into survival mode.

Another shot is fired. And it’s close. Way too close
for comfort.

I don’t hesitate. I jump off the couch, grab hold of
Jezebel with one hand, and haul her pregnant ass behind me down the hall.
Debbie scrambles, gathering her sons, and we move swiftly into the master suite.

“Get in the closet,” I order the women and children.

Filing one by one into the walk-in closet, I dash to
the bed and grab the pillows and blankets then toss them in the closet, before
I order them to stay put and be quiet. Afterward, I silently shut their door
and run to grab my purse for my gun. They don’t question me; they don’t even
utter a single coherent sentence. I know they have to be scared out of their
minds. I would be too if I hadn’t seen this shit happen before.

With my gun in hand, I exit the room, shutting the
door tightly. Military style, I’m armed and ready, I shuffle along the side
wall toward the door to the stairs. I have two choices. I stay in the basement
and protect the women and children down here, or I go upstairs and join
whomever is up on the porch.

More gunfire.

My phone buzzes in my jeans pocket.

I ignore it momentarily to reach the steel door that
is locked from the inside. Checking to make sure the lock is secure, I take in
a deep breath and gather my wits.

I can do this. I
grew up here. This isn’t the first or even the fifth time I’ve heard shots like
this go off
. I tell myself through calming breaths. Glancing
down at my attire I make sure I’m good to go. Guess I dressed for the occasion.
Combat boots, black t-shirt, and all. Go figure.

One more deep cleansing breath, and I fish my phone
from my jeans.

Big:
STAY INSIDE!
THIS IS NOT A DRILL! DO NOT PLAY SUPERWOMAN! I NEED YOU ALIVE. I NEED THEM ALL
ALIVE.

Yeah, well. I am not a prissy bitch, and I don’t trust
some other brother that I hardly know and have never shot with to protect the
house.

Shoving the phone back into my pocket, I unlock the
steel door and MacGyver it up the stairs. Placing my ear to the door that opens
into the hall, I carefully listen, drowning out the pounding in my ears from my
heart racing. No one’s in the house.