MC Chronicles: The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 2: (Motorcycle Club Romance Novel)

by Bink Cummings

  The Diary of Bink Cummings

  Volume 2

  MC Chronicles

  Bink Cummings

  ~~~

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright © 2015 by Bink Cummings

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  Proofreader/Editor- Ashley Hampton

  Beta/Proofreader- Jay Samia

  Proofreader- Amy Koch-Bucy

  Cover Artist- Bink Cummings

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the Author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  (Note: This book/series is a work of fiction with aspects based in truth.)

  Contact the Author: Email: BinkCummings@yahoo.com

  Recognitions

  Let’s just say I wouldn’t be sane right now if it wasn’t for many people in my life. I wanna shout a huge thank you to……

  Jezebel, thank you for spending countless hours talking with me about life, books, family stresses, and being the sister I never thought I’d have. You’re proof that loyalty is thicker than blood.

  Pixie, thank you for being my backup. Even if you think you’re the forgotten stepchild sometimes, you’re not, I promise. You’re my sister till the end and I wouldn’t be where I am today, without your encouragement and hours of drinking together, relieving stress.

  Deb, thank you for being a mom to me, and having my back through thick and thin. Even the times when the family becomes too much, you lighten the load—for that I am forever grateful.

  Amy, thank you for your support and kicks in the ass when I question myself. You’re friendship means a helluva lot to me, and I’m proud to call you sister.

  Ashley, thank you for your amazing dedication to editing, and being a constant shoulder to lean on.

  Ena: From Enticing Journey Book Promotions; thank you for your professionalism, help, and the wonderful work you do with your promotional company. You’re a great woman who willing lends a hand, shoulder, or ear, whenever I’m in need, and that means the world to me.

  I wanna give a special shout out to Jay, who messaged me shortly after Vol 1 had published. She has went above and beyond to help me— from the group, to beta reading and proofreading, to emails, teasers and more… She’s been a real fucking blessing in my life. Thank you so much Jay for your support, invaluable dedication, and for being a new sister in my life.

  To all the bitches at the Bink Cummings Clubhouse, you have become a second family to me. Thank you for welcoming me into your lives, I love all you chicks!

  Finally- I couldn’t forget to send a big can of sloppy smooches to all the bloggers who participated in my tours and reviewed my books. I can’t thank ya’ll enough for taking a chance on me. Ya’ll are fucking amazing! And there is no way I could have done any of this without each and every one of you!

  Much Love — Peace: Bink

  Intro

  Are you ready for the ride? Do you think you can handle it? Now let me tell ya, this story isn’t what you think. Life is not a fairy tale, and if you think it is, you better stop reading now. As you have gathered in volume 1, my life is a sick and twisted mess that has never been what people could call normal. This volume is no different.

  You might be a new reader, or maybe you’ve been patiently waiting for this, my story, in volume 2. Either way, I thank you for following along in this journey.

  Now, keep in mind, some of you may hate it or me by the time you’re done. Others may understand the drastic and somewhat selfish choices I took. This is just another bumpy road in this thing we call life. No matter how fucked up it may get or how much it makes us bleed, life is just…. life. And love, well, it’s just love. Even the kind that can’t seem to let go, even though you’ve tried.

  This is why I’ve spared you the details of my life until another turning point took place. It’s not September anymore. It’s February. Welcome to the next chapter in my ever-changing life. Bear with me, things are about to get complicated.

  Table of Contents

  Recognitions

  Intro

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter One

  Monday: February 17, 2014

  “Eva, darling, could you please be sure to pick up both of our vitamins from the store, on your way home from work today? And please talk to the doorman on your way out. That package from my mother is supposed to be delivered today, and I don’t want it sitting downstairs. Just tell Raoul to use his key and drop it inside the door. I’ll deal with it when I get home, which won’t be until late. I’ve got that business meeting over drinks with a client at seven. I promise to be home as soon as I can,” Marshall relays, yelling from the shower.

  This is sort of our morning routine these days…busy, busy, busy…such is life. I’ve just finished with my morning shower, fixed my hair, and makeup. Now I’m sitting on our king sized memory foam vibrating mattress that I hate, mind you. And I’m sliding on my bright white kitten heels, that match my flouncy blouse and black knit pants, which I am wearing to work today. It’s all been tied together with my black pearl necklace from Marshall, and diamond stud earrings, also a gift from Marshall. Those I received at our Valentine’s Day dinner over the weekend. He took me to Tashaki, an upscale, high dollar Asian restaurant, with some of the most delicious cuisine in town. According to the critics, that is—not me. I’m not a pretentious foody.

  It was a lovely night out, as all of our nights are. The entire day consisted of pampering at its finest - a spa day with a pedicure, manicure, an hour-long Swedish massage, followed by my hair styled, and makeup applied to perfection. Waiting for me in the dressing room to slip on was a beautiful peach chiffon gown and matching shoes for the evening. Marshall had rented a vintage Caddy for us to ride in style to the restaurant, where we spent hours conversing about his work and places he is dying to show me. Most of them involve us having to travel to Western Europe. It all sounds like a wild fantasy to me. One that a girl like me will never truly experience….a fairy tale, if you will.

  Being raised like I was then to be doted upon, spoiled, and treated like a classy lady, often times makes it difficult to understand how this all came to fruition in my new life.

  Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know you’re probably sitting here, reading all this sweet, hoity-toity shit and going. What the fuck, Bink? You left your home, and now you’ve shacked up with some dude named Marshall? I did, and I have, is the simplest answer. Although, I’m rather certain that isn’t quite what you are seeking, so bear with me as I spell it out for you.

  I moved to Chicago twenty-three weeks ago, which was way back in September. I had barely any money, no job, no apartment—nothing. The first few days dragged on like a dark cloud
looming over my head. I worried a lot, and I cried even more. I missed my friends, and most of all I missed Gunz and Big. After I had stayed cooped up in my shitty hotel room in the city for two whole days wallowing in my new life, I sucked it up, and picked up a phone to call Debbie and Gunz. And of course, like I had predicted, all hell had broken loose since my departure in the middle of the night. Big was a mess, and the clubhouse was in constant tension. To put it simply, their life was in shambles, and mine wasn’t much better.

  Gunz called me every single day for the first few weeks, begging me to come home. I refused. What can I say? I’m stubborn like that…. and he was respectful enough of my independence that he never told Big exactly where I was. I worried if he had, I would have been dragged home kicking and screaming. I wasn’t. Gunz kept his word, and after a very long detailed talk about my feelings, on the matter of the club and becoming Big’s old lady without choice, he understood and left it at that—cut and dry.

  Big, after the dust had sorta settled, blew up my phone a hundred times a day. Good thing for free long distance or my bill would have been out of this fuckin’ world from all the calls coming and going. Anyhow… I naturally didn’t want to speak to Big, and I didn’t. I allowed Gunz to play middleman, by delivering important information, like me being safe and that I wasn’t coming back. Big’s manic phone calls fell on deaf ears as I would always pick up the receiver to hear him yelling at me. Before I would start to cry, I would hang up, never to utter a single syllable. It was easier that way for me, and I would like to think for him too. Even though he never said so, I knew it was the best for everyone. Whether he believed it or not at the time, I hope he does now.

  And yes I know Big probably could have traced my number and stormed to Chicago to claim me. That’s what I would have done if I were Big. However, Gunz handled that too in some sort of way. I didn’t ask, and he didn’t tell. Conversations about Big and our relationship, or lack thereof, are forbidden, and it didn’t take Gunz long to realize I wasn’t going to listen to a lick of ‘Prez’ talk. I couldn’t, it hurt too much.

  My daddy and brothers made it home safely from their run, the lockdown was lifted, and life turned back to some semblance of Sacred Sinners normal. My brothers didn’t argue when I said I wasn’t returning, and my daddy, for whatever reason, seemed pleased with my choice to leave. If I had to guess, his feelings had a lot to do with my mother’s pleasure in me being away from the club. That, right there, nearly had me turning right around on my independent voyage and going straight home, to give her the big F.U. Like I said, I nearly did.

  Eventually, things calmed, and people began to accept my decision. All the while, I was seeking employment and scouting out a cheap apartment. Gunz, in the first week, had mailed me money and my purse, so I was comfortable for a short while, as I tried to keep my head above water. Starting out in a new place and new town, I’d never visited before was overwhelming, to say the very least.

  Less than three weeks in my new city, I took refuge in a shared apartment situation with a privileged college girl named Brittany. The rent was ridiculously inexpensive, and the apartment itself was furnished, large, and in a nicer part of the city. Brittany had no financial crisis that provoked her into seeking a roommate. I think she was just lonely and wanted some girl bonding time. She isn’t one of those girly, prissy bitch types that typically come from families of wealth. No, she’s a bit of a cutesy book nerd, majoring in economics, wearing leggings everywhere she goes, and has a cat named Einstein. You catch my drift.

  I found her ad on Craigslist, and it being in Chicago and such a great deal, applications poured in by the hundreds, if not thousands. I honestly didn’t think I’d get the room until I came for my interview, and there sat a handsome mid-forties man next to his daughter, interviewing each applicant on a first come, first serve basis.

  It was apparent within three minutes into the interview that I had nailed down the apartment. Somewhere between my ‘I’d moved to a new city to outrun family obligation’, and ‘I’m homeless, living in a shitty hotel’, Brittany’s father had asked me out for coffee, which I politely declined. I had no intentions of running out of one man’s arms into another’s, so with poise, wearing tan Dockers and dress shirt, her father humbly accepted my refusal for a date. Much to my surprise, I still managed to secure the apartment.

  Now, you’re thinking, great Bink, you got this awesome place to live with this young girl, and you’ve set yourself up in the city. So how does this man who’s talking to you from his shower come into this story? Well…I’ll tell you.

  Marshall is Brittany’s dad. After I had settled into the apartment, it was painfully obvious that Marshall’s constant visits had nothing to do with his daughter and everything to do with me. At first it was simple visits where he’d drop off doughnuts, but there were always more than enough for Brittany and me. That would always lead to casual conversations where he would ask if I’d found a job, and how I liked Chicago. Then it turned into him inviting me along with him and Brittany for deep-dish pizza once a week. This progressed over an entire month.

  Until….one stormy night…. Isn’t that how all good stories go? Well… this one is no different.

  The power had gone out, and the entire block was pitch black. Brittany and I had a single candle burning in the living room, as we cuddled up with blankets, talking nonsense, when a knock sounded at the door. I threw my blankets off my queasy stomach and padded to the door. I had been sick for nearly a week now, throwing up constantly, but I didn’t have the money to go to the doctor. I was pretty sure it was just the flu. I’d been through worse.

  “Who’s there?” I called to the visitor.

  “The Boogeyman,” his deep grumbly voice replied. I smiled, holding back my impending chuckle with my hand.

  “Oh no, Mr. Boogeyman, I don’t think we should let you in. We’re two innocent girls in here, and we don’t like scary monsters,” I mocked seriousness, as I heard Brit giggle from the couch.

  “I’m not a scary Boogeyman. I come bearing gifts.”

  My smile grew wider. “Really? What kind of gifts would those be?” On the inside I wanted to ask if he had a hard cock, or a motorcycle ride as my gift, but that was the old Bink and they didn’t even know that name. Everyone in my new life calls me Eva. Or, for the most part they do.

  Instead I added, “I don’t want any Frankincense or Myrrh, if that’s what you’re packin’.”

  He chuckled deep and sensuously. It had been far too long since I’d had a man amuse me like him. “Eva, open the door, please. I promise you and Brit will love what I’ve brought.”

  I melted at Marshall’s sweet voice and opened the door. On the other side he stood, wearing the cutest Tasmanian devil pajama pants and a Chicago Bears t-shirt underneath a black, unzipped hoody. It was the very first time I’d ever seen Marshall out of business clothes, like his typical suits or Docker pants and a button down. Something about the pajama pants was hot and made me smile.

  “Do you like?” He winked, twirling around in the hall, holding his lantern clutched in one hand, and a deep-dish pizza in the other.

  I giggled like a damn girl and waved him in. “Yes, now come in, Boogeyman. We could use some company.” Stepping back, I let him pass and shut and locked the door once he entered. We all sat around the living room eating our pizza straight from the box, on napkins I’d fetched from the darkened kitchen, as Marshall asked Brit about her classes.

  “They’re fine, Dad,” she sighed, annoyed. I’ve come to learn that Brit hates her dad’s constant interest in her school. I know it comes from a good place though. He’s a great father to her. Brit’s mom, Marshall’s ex-wife, had moved away and sort of disappeared from Brit’s life when she was twelve. Marshall had raised her with the help of his mother since then. That’s why he’s so close to her, and his mother too. She cared for Brit when Marshall put in long hours at the office. He’s a lawyer, by the way, a partner at a prestigious law firm here in Chicago.


  “You know, Brit, if you ever need any help, I’m here.” I offered, trying to take some of the heat off her. I knew there were a couple classes, math in particular, she hated. It wasn’t difficult work; it was the teacher that she despised.

  “Darling, hey, darling,” Marshall says, tearing me from my memories, and entering into our bedroom with towel secured around his waist, and a bright smile directed at me.

  “Oh, sorry,” I playfully wink. “I heard you. I will talk to Raoul, but you know what will happen when I do.”

  Marshall rolls his butterscotch eyes and flashes me a crooked smirk. “Yeah, yeah, I know, Darling, I know. Looks like Raoul and I will probably have to have another man to man chat.”

  “Oh yeah? What is the big bad lawyer going to tell our doorman?”

  Without a word, Marshall stalks powerfully towards me. His towel drops away, revealing his semi-hard cock. I bit my lip watching it swing until he stops directly in front of me, and bends down, capturing my lips in a searing kiss. Pushing me back onto the bed, Marshall opens my legs and crawls up between them. His cock, now hard, rubs me through my pants, as my nipples harden. Grabbing hold of my hands, he threads his fingers through mine and balances himself above me, as he pushes our intertwined fingers into the mattress. Deliciously bucking his hips and grinding his cock to my core, forces a wanton moan to rattle in my throat.

  Thrusting my breasts upward and brushing them against his bare chest, Marshall groans breaking our kiss, leaving me breathless. “I will tell Raoul that this beautiful woman that I love is Eva, and she is off limits to anyone except me,” he states looking directly into my eyes, using his lawyer tone that makes me wet. Leaning back onto his knees, he knowingly grins at me.

  “You’re excited aren’t you, Darling?” he taunts. “Sorry, but I have to get to the office, and you’re almost late for work. I will make love to you later.”