The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 1 (MC Chronicles #1) (20 page)

“No, just help me get him up,” I order the group of
frantic men.

“What?” Tripper is the first to ask, kneeling beside
Big.

“He’s exhausted,” my fingers lovingly run through
Big’s hair. “And he just underwent surgery, with a local anesthetic. His body
needs time to recover. Big just passed out. It’s normal. Now get him off the
floor and into bed. I need a med kit for myself and the blood pressure monitor
brought into his room. And some of the morphine we have in the safe, just in
case he needs it when he wakes up.” I rattle off and step back, allowing four
brothers to carefully lift their unconscious President and carry him into his
room. I stay right on their tails, keeping a keen eye on the way they maneuver
his limp body. Exhibiting my own version of Big’s protective and ever appraising
persona as I move through the room, making sure everything is in place and he
is left unharmed.

Pixie slides into the room. Her petite body is seemingly
more tiny with so many big bikers crammed into such a tight space.

“Here.” Pixie hands me the med bag that I just used
yesterday. How so much violence can ensue in just a matter of two days would be
incomprehensible to an everyday Joe. In our neck of the woods, it’s common
practice. Ever heard of the saying, ‘When it rains, it pours’? Well…that’s sort
of how the club’s incidences occur. Instead of a tiny downpour, we get the
monsoon.

“Watch him.” I direct my stare over to Big, who’s
being situated in his bed. I take the bag into the bathroom, to debris,
disinfect, and pop a painkiller before I coat my abrasions with triple
antibiotic ointment. By the time I am finished, the brothers have filtered out
and Pixie, along with the three other Sacred Sisters who are resting their
backs against one wall, patiently waiting.

“What happened to Linda?” I break the uncomfortable
silence.

“She was taken by ambulance to the local hospital,”
Debbie explains.

“What about the cops? She was badly beaten,” I add.

“I saw…” Debbie smirks, and turns her head to the
side, trying to hide her amusement. “The cops didn’t come into the compound,
but they did talk to Tripper and Blimp outside of the front gates. I don’t know
what was said, but I saw some kind of handshakes being exchanged and then they
followed the ambulance down the road. No sirens.”

A faint knock raps at the door as it slowly opens.
Gunz enters, a solemn expression stricken across his face. First, he glances at
the bed where Big is resting comfortably. Then he turns his gaze upon me, and I
look away. The tension in the air between us is so thick I nearly choke on it.

“Can we talk?” he speaks to me in the gentlest of
tones.

It’s hard to be in the same room with a man you know
has hurt you. I’ve loved Gunz since I was a little child; he’s always been like
a fun uncle or another father figure to me. The sad thing is neither Big nor my
own daddy would have done what he did. They wouldn’t have physically attacked
me. Big Dick has done a shit load of things that piss me the hell off. But in
hindsight, it’s always been in my best interest. Or for the most part, that is.

“I have nothing to say,” I mutter, blankly staring at
the wall. My arms hanging loosely at my sides, stance limp, steeped with
melancholy.

“But I need to apologize,” he weakly explains.

“Nothing to apologize for.” I brush him off and turn
fully around, my back to him. “Now please leave me alone and stay away. I will
take care of him. It’s
my job
. I
don’t need or want you here.” Glancing down at my arms, it forces my heart to
crack. I will be scarred from this night, both emotionally and physically for
the rest of my life. There is no way that the skin that has been torn into and
rubbed raw will ever be pretty again. Both of my forearms to my hands, just
above my wrists onto my palms are the worst kind of road rash I’ve seen in
years. Small areas, where bigger rocks were lodged in my skin will leave more
abrasive scars. If I am lucky, my knuckles will return to some semblance of
normal. But my ivory skin mars so easily. I’m screwed.

“Are you hurt?” Gunz whispers.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Again, Bink, I’m sorry. I’ll leave you be. But you
need to know I never meant to hurt you. I knew Linda was at the front. That’s
why I came to the house to relieve Axel. I knew once you’d heard the shots
you’d want to get involved. You’re a crack shot. We all know this. But you didn’t
need to be a part of that. Big didn’t want that. That fucked up relationship
him and Linda have had goin’ for the past ten years is finally comin’ to a
head. She knows this and doesn’t want to let him go. She loves him, has for
years. Even though he’s never felt a damn thing for her. I know it, he knows
it, and hell, the whole club knows it. That dumb bitch doesn’t seem to get that
she’s never been anything to him but a wet pussy and a pair of tits. I get it.
Women have a hard time separating sex from emotions, even though he was clear
with her from day one that he wanted nothin’ but a good fuck. Linda, being the
idiot she is, thought she could change him. Men don’t change. You and I both
know this. But that woman was living in her own little motorcycle club fantasy
that could never become a reality.”

Gunz sighs and continues, “What you did to her was
nothing less than what she deserved for shootin’ our Prez. She’s lucky we
didn’t put her in the ground. Heard the brothers had pulled guns on her. Big is
the one who ordered them to stand down.” I hear the door move.

“You’re a good woman, Bink. Better than any of us
brothers deserved to help take care of us and put up with our shit for all
these years. Especially me. I love ya, baby doll. Get at me, if you ever decide
to forgive my fuck up.”

Tears well in my eyes, and I hear the door begin to
shut. Turning on my heel, I sprint to Gunz just before the door comes to a
close.

“Wait,” I cry, tears streaking down my cheeks. Gunz
hauls me into his protective arms, enveloping me in a massive hug.

“Love ya, baby doll.” He holds me. My tears turn into
a waterfall, as I bawl like a little child in his arms. “It’s okay.” Gunz’s
hand runs the length of my back, soothing me.

“It’s going to be alright. You’re going to be okay.”

“Big almost died,” I sob, my tough façade shattering into
tiny pieces.

“No, he didn’t. She didn’t want to kill him, or she
would have. Linda is heartbroken and trust me, men and women alike do some
crazy shit in the name of love.”

I know that’s the truth—people do stupid things to
those they love. But to have someone I care about shot. To be that close to
death. It hurts. Maybe if I had gotten there sooner, or if I had helped in some
way. A man that’s been a part of me my entire life wouldn’t have a bullet wound
in his shoulder. The worst part is knowing, deep down, it was to get back at me,
in some sadistic, selfish way.

I rest in Gunz’s arms for what feels like hours. In reality,
it’s only five to ten minutes. My tears dry up, and suddenly I am beyond exhausted
from the long day. Sleep beckons me.

I pull away from Gunz, and he kisses my cheek before
he heads off.

“You need to rest. You’ve had one helluva night,”
Candy Cane says, once I rejoin them. I couldn’t agree more.

“Thanks for always being there for me. I know it’s
kind of crazy right now. But I promise it isn’t always like this,” I explain,
mainly to Jezebel and Pixie.

“We know,” Pixie replies.

“Debbie filled us in,” Jezebel adds.

With a sisterly wave, the group of old ladies part
ways and head back to Big’s house. Shutting and locking the door, I flick off
the light, strip naked, and lay my gun on the floor next to the bed before
climbing over Big’s still body and curling up next to him, allowing his
comforting warmth to seep into my soul but keeping a safe distance from his
injury and failing at finding a comfortable position with mine.

For hours, I contently watch him sleep in peace, his
chest rising and falling with each consistent breath. The blood pressure
machine operates once every hour on the hour. I don’t know how or when but the
sandman pays me a visit, and I finally drift off to dreamland.

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

“What the… Oh…fu…ck…son…of…a…bi…tch…”

The sounds of a grumbling man and jerky movements in
bed awaken me. Opening my eyes, I catch Big, yanking off his blood pressure
cuff, and throwing it on the floor, while attempting to sit up, quite
unsuccessfully in bed.

“My… Goddammm…” he huffs, shuffling his body upward
only to fall back onto the mattress with a pain-laden groan and muffled curses,
fists pounding onto the bed on either side of him in frustration.

“Morning, sunshine,” I tease, smirking at him, through
heavy lidded eyes, rubbing the sleep from them.

Big glances at me, lookin’ rather rough, with his
heavily unshaven face and dirt speckled skin. He needs a shower. “Are you naked
under those covers?” He grins, his single sexy dimple making my heart skip a
beat.

What in the hell is up with my heart?

“Is that all you think about old man?” I stick my
tongue out.

“Hell if it ain’t. Two days in a week I wake up with
you in my bed. I musta done something good.”

I ignore his obvious idiocy. The man hasn’t per se
lucked out. It’s been a screwed up week. One in which I was forced to sleep in
his bed handcuffed. Perhaps he forgot that little part. You know, gunshot wound
and all.

Carefully, to avoid any more pressure on my arms than
needed, I turn onto my stomach and push myself up to sit in bed. The blanket
falls away from my large breasts. Big erotically groans, lusciously licking his
lips, openly drinking in the sight of them. Not a gentleman in the least.

“Fuck,” he growls. “Put those things away.”

“What?” I shrug, indifferently. “You’ve seen my pussy.
Are tits really that big of a deal?” I honestly didn’t even fathom sleeping
naked as being an issue. I was dirty and didn’t want to find a shirt that would
undoubtedly painfully rub my injured forearms. So I slept in my birthday suit,
next to a man who had fainted from a gunshot wound. Maybe I should have worn
clothes. But there’s no need for the shoulda, coulda, woulda shit now. It is
what it is.

“Yours are.” His heated gaze rakes the length of my
exposed body, forcing a shiver of delight to roll down my spine, pooling warmly
between my thighs. I can’t explain why, but I love the way his eyes devour me
with a single pool of carnal lust. I know I shouldn’t relish in it. But I do. I
love it.

“I’m already fuckin’ hard, Sugar Tits. Now put them
away,” he harshly demands. His eyes are glued to my body.

I yank the blanket up to cover them. Why do my tits
hanging out matters? It doesn’t make a lick of sense to me. Not when I can have
my pussy out all of the damn time. But my tits are a no go? Whatever.

“How are you going to shower without my help? Seems as
though you need one. And I’ll be topless when I do,” I comment, figuring this
is a good as time as ever to get this out of the way.

“I was shot. That’s it. So I’m capable of washing my
own dick and balls. I don’t need you in there keepin’ my cock hard when I do.
Like I’ve told you before, I can’t fuck you and I’m gonna want to. So get up,
put on one of my shirts, and help this old man outta bed. I gotta piss, and
like you said, I need to shower. ” He scrubs his jaw with one hand. “And
shave.”

With an exaggerated huff, I climb off the end of the
bed. And believe it or not the control freak himself actually shuts his eyes,
giving me privacy. I know it shouldn’t, but it pisses me off. Going into his
small walk-in closet I tug his black ‘Live Fast, Die Young,’ oversized shirt
from a hanger and pull over my head. I’ve seen him wearing it a time or two.
Hugs his body like a second skin. It’s sexy. I’d never tell him that, though.

“I’m done.” Crossing my arms I stroll to the side of
the bed. “Do you want me to help you
now
?
Or call one of the brothers?”

Upon opening his eyes, Big disapprovingly inspects my
attire. “No way I’m lettin’ any of them near you, lookin’ like that.”

Tugging on the shirt with attitude, I lose it. “What
the fuck do you mean? First, I can’t be topless and now I can’t wear an
oversized t-shirt? I think this bullet wound made you even more of an asshole
than you were before.”

Big furiously growls, fists balled on either side of
his body. “Fuck! How many times do I have to explain this to you, woman? You’re
beautiful and mighty fuckable wearin’ my shirt. I’m still fuckin’ hard, Sugar
Tits. And I don’t need any brothers’ barkin’ up your tree when I am not at my
hundred percent to kick their asses. Ya get me? You ain’t got a fuckin’ bra on.
Your nipples are like little lollypops askin’ me to suck on ‘em...”

Throwing his head back into the pillow, he groans and
grabs his sheet-covered cock. “Shit, your tits are so fuckin’ sexy.”

My stomach does a flip, and butterflies flutter in my
stomach by the masses. How do those two words, ‘
fuckin’ sexy’
rolling off his thick tongue make me want to
ride his cock so badly?

I don’t know what to say to that, so I keep quiet and
wait for him to speak, shifting on the balls of my bare feet, chewing on my
inner cheek.

Grinding his palm into the head of his cock over the
covers, he thrusts his hips. “What I wouldn’t give to sink my cock into your
perfect lil’ pussy,” he grates out huskily, through uneven breaths. “I’m going
to come just thinkin’ ‘bout it.” Big’s hips undulate, bucking roughly against
his wide-open palm. His breathing accelerates, chest rising and falling
rapidly. As he pushes himself into a higher state of arousal, his body jerks
and his eyes snap shut in deep concentration or fantasy. I can’t be sure which.

This is incredibly hot watching him touch himself. Basking
in the incredible power of our sexual magnetism infusing the feverish air
surrounding us, I dust the tips of my fingers down the front of my shirt and
between my slightly parted thighs, straight into the slickness of my heated
pussy. Gliding my finger between my smooth, plump lips, I rest on my engorged
clit. Slowly drawing tiny circles around the damp flesh, I coax my hardened nub
to unsheathe herself.

“Oh,” I wispily moan, as the sensitive flesh sparks to
life under the onslaught of my firm finger. Screwing my eyes closed, I fall
into a maddened state of my own thrilling arousal.

“Fuck, baby,” Big howls. “You’re touchin’ your pussy.”

“Yesss,” I sensually hiss, unconsciously swirling my
hips to the beat of my clit play.

“Stick one of your fingers into that tight pussy, baby,”
Big sexily orders. The sound of his boxers waistband stretching becomes music
to my ears, and I instantly obey, curling my index finger and inserting it into
my soft, moist depths. My pussy’s tightness contracts around my finger as I
massage the walls of my needy core.

“Does that feel good? Do you like that?” he groans.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, baby. I want to bury myself balls deep into that
tiny little cunt of yours. Do you know how much I want that, sweetheart? How
much I wanna feel my cock milked by your tight pussy? How much I wanna nut
inside? To fill you and see it pour out of your perfect little pink slit.” He
hotly dirty talks, sending me higher with need. I love the way those dirty
works excite me. They are wrong, yet so right.

“Then fuck me…” I blurt unabashed. “Fuck me, Big. I
want you inside me. I want all of it.” I’m lost in my own pleasure, driving
myself higher and higher to a place I’ve never brought myself to before. My
body is alive, on fire, all powerful. The need to release overcomes all of my
senses. And I want nothing more than to fuck and be fucked, by one man and one
man alone.

“I can’t, baby, I can’t,” he sounds pained. “Come here
and sit on my face. Come on my lips, baby. Let me taste you.”

Opening my eyes, I don’t speak. I go to him and climb
onto the bed, widely straddling his face and trying not to hurt him as I lower
my damp, greedy pussy to his parted lips.

“That’s it, Sugar Tits. Come down to me.”

Big’s warm succulent mouth connects with my clit, and
I whimper in pleasure, gripping the headboard. Below me his body bucks into his
fist, as he pounds his thick steel. Rocking my hips to his mouth, I find a
rhythm, and I’m lost, blown to bits by his masterful tongue. My body becomes
rigid. My lungs seize in my chest. The erotically devastating explosion is
all-consuming, as Big’s teeth latch onto my clit, and I lose myself.

My body shakes. “I’m…oh… Big… I’m...” I cry out,
coming, as violent waves crash through my soul, wetness pours from my pussy,
drenching his mouth. The sounds of him devouring me heightens my orgasm to an
otherworldly plane of magical proportions.

Oh dear God, he’s amazing!

Grunting against my sated flesh, he reaches his own
release, spewing thick streams of come onto his smooth, hairless stomach.

Dismounting Big, I drop into the bed beside him with a
deep, satisfied breath, and a wide satiated smile plastered across my face.
“That was awesome,” I whisper, turning onto my side, my eyes landing on the
sticky puddle of come, resting on his abs. I don’t ask, I just do. And I lean
up, sweetly trailing the tiniest of kisses along his stomach, flaring baby
goose flesh in my wake as I poke my tongue out to taste his salty essence.

A man’s
come
can tell you a lot about them. If they taste good to you, it’s a good sign, in
my opinion, that you are supposed to be fooling around with this man. Big’s
come
doesn’t disappoint. It’s tangy in a
pleasantly addictive way. It’s divine. Sweeping my tongue over the rest of his
hardened abs, I clean him off. And he lets me without protest.

“Did you like it?” He quirks up a single frisky brow
and a naughty half smirk that says it all. He liked that I tasted his come,
which is a good thing because I enjoyed it too.

“Yes.” I blush, looking away, feeling slightly
self-conscious about my confession.

“Don’t do that,” he admonishes, pinching my chin and
turning it so I’m forced to meet his penetrating ice-blue gaze. “It makes
things easier that you like it.”

“Makes what easier?” I sheepishly ask, nervously
biting my bottom lip.

“Enough about that right now. Help me up?” He brushes
my question off, and I let it go. Once more, I shuffle off the end of his bed
and meet him by the edge, where I tug his legs off the side and wrap my arm
under his back to help him sit up and stand. It takes a moment for his stiff
muscles to loosen, but he’s soon able to walk into the bathroom on his own.
Reluctantly, I let him tend to himself without assistance.

“You’re sure you don’t need my help?” I yell from the
other side of the closed bathroom door.

“I’m fine, Sugar Tits. You can re-bandage me when I’m
through. Yeah?” he replies.

“Yeah.”

I leave him to it and exit the room. I’ll be damned if
a t-shirt with no panties or bra on is going to stop me from wandering into the
kitchen, like I did when I was a child. Inside the kitchen, Gunz, Blimp, and
Viper are seated on stools at the stainless steel island munching on some grub,
animatedly conversing about something club related.

“Heyyyyy, Bink,” Viper hotly drawls. “How ya holdin’
up?”

“I’m fine. Just here to get me and Big some food.”
Tiptoeing around the kitchen I’ve used since I can remember, I grab some paper
plates from the cupboard and skirt around the room, snatching up the proper
ingredients to wrestle Big and I up some sandwiches, dill pickle spears, BBQ
Ballreich potato chips, and a can of Dew for me and a glass of milk for him.

That’s one nice thing about Big. I know what he likes
to eat and what he doesn’t. The best part is he likes most food. That man’s
like a human garbage disposal if you feed him what he craves. If it’s not his
favorite, he’ll eat it, but he never comes back for seconds. That’s why I no
longer make ham and bean soup. That was the first time I truly noticed his
tell. He ate it with a smile and forthright appreciation. But, he never came
back for seconds.

“How’s Big?” Gunz asks, chewing on what looks to be a
meatball sub.

“I’m fine,” Big grumbles, entering into the kitchen,
tattooed and shirtless. Wearing only a pair of jeans, the tops of his CK boxers
poking out. “I thought you were going to patch me up.”

I hold up his tall glass of milk. “I thought you might
be hungry, seeing as though you need all the strength you can get after being
shot.”

Big savagely growls, and I jump, startled, my heart leaping
into my throat.

“Viper,” Big seethes. “Stop lookin’ at her that way.”

Viper dirtily smirks in my direction. “Lookin’ at her
what way, Prez?”

Viper’s expression when he looks at me is always the
same. I don’t see why there is any difference now.

“Like you want to eat her for lunch,” Big snaps.

Oh…

“But I do want to eat her for breakfast, lunch, and
dinner,” Viper honestly states, without an ounce of mockery. My eyes widen in
surprise at his declaration. How he’s gone from apologizing on his knees to this
in the matter of days is astounding and border-lining on suicidal.

Big Dick advances on him one sure footstep at a time. Viper
remains in his stool, unfazed when Big cruelly grips his shoulder, digging
fingers into his flesh.

“She’s off limits,” Big declares.

“I know that, Prez.” Viper glances over his shoulder,
momentarily locking eyes with Big, his face unreadable. “But it doesn’t mean I
don’t want to have her for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Never said I was gonna.
I know she’s yours.”

His? Huh? That’s never going to happen. Not possible.

“I’m not
his
,”
I emphasize, breaking into this little battle of my cock is bigger than yours.
“I am no one’s.”

“Yeah, Bink, you might think that. But whose bed were
you in last night?” Viper evenly inquires, shaking off Big’s hand. Big drops it
to his side, his eyes once again drinking in the sight of me. And once more I
feel the sear of his gaze that lands inconveniently between my legs.