Now I’m the one who barks a sarcastic laugh. Gentlemanly, my ass.
He continues, unaffected. “And if he’d asked for too much green, we’d threaten ‘em. And like the pussies they are, they’d go scurrying home to mama with pussies between their legs and no dough. Worked fuckin’ great.”
“So the men never actually cheated on me?”
“Nope. None,” he shakes his head. “Do you think a man in his right mind would cheat on the hottest thing walkin’? Ignore the fact that you’re smart, tough as nails, and funny, with great taste. Your smokin’ body and sugary tits, fuck, that’s enough to keep a cheater from straying.”
Well, okay then.
My mind says I should catapult off the bed, get in his face, and shout at him for controlling my life. I can’t though. My heart is thumping to a whole different beat. It might be illogical, but it’s TKO’ing my mind’s commands to unleash on Big.
Big sideways glances at me, perking a curious brow.
“What?” I shrug.
“You’re not yelling at me. Are you in shock?” He’s dead serious.
“No.”
I could wonder the same thing. I’m not in shock though. I’m… I dunno… relieved? I kind of already knew about the money, just not the extent of it. However, first and foremost, I am thankful for his sacrifices. Financial, the quality time and everything in between. I hate he basically threw money at men to dump me. That is shitty. In hindsight, it was probably for my own good. I wouldn’t be carrying Harley right now, if those breakups hadn’t have transpired. So I can’t say I regret his decisions or hate him for them. Yeah, I didn’t like him throwing all this on me at once last year, saying he was going to own me and refusing to tell me why. Makes sense now. Sorta.
Not sure on what to say, I remain quiet.
Big sits up straight and reaches his hand out to lay it softly on my exposed knee. Looking away, he asks, “Do you love him?”
“Who? Marshall?” That’s an easy question to answer.
“Yeah,” he uncomfortably grunts and stiffens his shoulders. Marshall must affect Big more than anything else. He goes instantly on the defensive when anything pertaining to Marshall is brought to attention. I can relate; I feel the same about Marylou.
“No, I don’t. But I do care for him. He’s a nice man, and he takes care of me,” not sexually, “and he loves me,” I try to explain gently, without any inflection in my tone.
Big’s body turns to stone under taut flesh as the hand on my knee tightens. Time to take Marshall out of this equation and simmer down Big’s blustery emotions.
“Do you love Marylou?” I ask, swallowing the intense jealousy like a hot branding iron. My stomach clenches, just speaking her name, and it gives me a bad taste in my mouth.
“What kind of question is that?”
I’m not sure if he’s being a smartass or not.
“A real one,” I scoff, stamping down the urgent need to roll my eyes at him.
“Do you think I love her?” He turns his body so he’s facing me, and his knee hikes up to rest on the bed. I shrug.
Why is it so hard for him to give me a yes or no answer? Oh right. It’s not. He’s just playing a game with me.
I stare at my lap, avoiding eye contact. “How am I supposed to know? You fucked her on a pool table in the middle of a party.”
Hooking his thumb under my chin, he tilts my head to look up at him. “Why did I fuck her in front of the club?” he raises a questioning brow and faintly grins.
“The fuck if I know,” I blurt, rapidly losing my patience.
“I’ll tell you why,” he reaches out and takes my hands into his, his soft loving eyes boring into mine. The sweetness makes me want to smile, but I won’t. This isn’t the time, so I refrain from showing any emotions. “I fucked her in the clubhouse with you present because you were present. I touched her more than I ever have the past two days because you are here.”
“Why… Why would you do that?” I stutter, shocked by his honest admission.
His hands grip mine harder. “Look at it from my perspective. You love someone, I mean truly love someone. I don’t care what people say. I believe that you can only ever love one person with all your heart. You give it up. Then they end up holding too much fuckin’ power over you. You are the only woman I ever gave my heart up to.” My heart sputters, as he continues. “Maybe it happened when you were born, hell if I know,” he shrugs with his whole body. “Maybe it happened when you became this beautiful sex kitten.”
I giggle. Sex kitten.
He growls, furrowing his brow. “Don’t laugh like that.”
I do it again, out of spite, and he growls harsher.
“Why not?” I tease.
“It makes me harder than I already am, and I could pound a fuckin’ nail with my dick right now. And you’re giggling at me, all sexy and shit, when I’m tryin’ to be serious. It makes my dick cream in my boxers, and it’s drippin’ enough already. I can’t fuck you right now.” he sighs throwing his head back. “But fuck, I want to,” he groans huskily.
Just listening to him talk like that has me wet all over again. Shit! My clit has woken, and my pussy is pulsing. How does he do it? Even my nipples are tingling.
I say the first thing that comes to mind. “You can fuck me. Now. I won’t mind.” My body squirms at my admission, and he releases my hands to roughly scrub his face. He stands to pace the room in long, powerful strides, grunting in sexual frustration under his breath.
“Don’t fuck her, please. Use my body. Not hers.” I couldn’t bear it if he fed his feral needs using Marylou. I will beg if I have to.
“Stop,” he covers his ears, shaking his head. “Just stop talkin’ like that. We can’t fuck. You’re pregnant. I can’t fuck you. I can’t.” I think he’s trying to convince himself more than me.
“Yes, you can.” Scooting up onto my mattress, I spread my legs and lift my dress to expose my glistening pussy to him. He stops, takes a good long look, growls, licks his kissable lips, and returns to pacing.
Guess this is harder than I thought.
“Come on, Big. You said you want it. Come and take it. I’m wet for you,” I seductively mutter.
He stops pacing, turns, and rakes his gaze down my body. I shiver at the intensity of his blazing ice-blue eyes. “No!” he huskily shouts, his eyes zeroing in on the slick folds of my pink heat. I bite my lip with anticipation, arching my back.
Will he ravage me? Dear God I hope so. Come on Big, you can do it.
He blinks rapidly like he isn’t sure if this is real or a dream.
“No!” his voice weakens and waivers, breathing labored. He wants this as much as I do. I can see it in his desire filled eyes, his cock rock-hard in his jeans, the way his hands twitch at his sides, and his mouth quivers, wanting to feast on what I’ve decided is his favorite place on my body—my pussy. I am offering it up on a platter. I am tired of being alone, not being pleased like my body needs. I know he is the perfect man to supply me with all that I long for— carnal satiation of the hottest variety.
He stares at my plump folds that I feel puff more under his watchful eye, like an animal putting on its best show to entice its mate. I’m enticing mine, and I want him. No, I need him to take the bait.
“No,” his voice softly croaks, his resolve fading fast.
Reaching between my legs, I slide a finger between my lips to open up the treasures inside. He groans, flicking his eyes from my pussy to my face and back again. This is the hottest thing I’ve ever done for a man. Swirling my own finger around the hardened bud of my clit, I whimper with pleasure.
“I need you,” I huskily whisper. My body is burning with red-hot fire of lust and love and need for him and him alone.
“I can’t,” he shivers, and I watch the next few seconds in slow motion. Big gives my pussy and entire body one long glance, slumps his shoulders in defeat, and turns on his heel, opening my bedroom door. I open my mouth to protest; nothing comes out but a
faint croak.
He sidelong glances at me one more time, his body half out the door. Big’s eyes droop into heart wrenching sadness, which makes my mouth go dry. And he expels a deep breath as my door comes to a full close.
No!
Why is he leaving me like this? I know he wants it too. I know I wasn’t imaging his desire, was I? I’m not that far gone, am I? That I would picture any man lusting after me like I know he was. Was that real? That didn’t just happen? How did he walk out?
Throwing my head back into my mattress, I tug my dress down over my knees, and pound the bed on either side of my body with my fists. Son of a bitch!
Trying to catch my breath, I don’t even realize how worked up I am until I become lightheaded from breathing too hard. Swallowing down my Sahara dry throat, I close my eyes and wish the last ten minutes away. I opened myself up to him, and he walked out on me. Since being with Marshall, I’ve been well versed in being rejected, and I’ve hardened myself to the painful reality that my boyfriend doesn’t want to sleep with me. Now the only man on the face of the earth that I truly want in all ways doesn’t want me. Shit, that hurts. It feels like an elephant is crushing my heart.
Reaching up, I rub my chest.
A knock sounds at my door, and I don’t get a chance to ask who it is before the person invites himself inside. Opening my eyes, I turn my head to see Marshall.
“Hello darling, Big said you needed me?” he steps into the room, slowly making his way over to sit on the edge of the bed. “You okay?” he reaches out, running a tender finger down the length of my arm.
I want to yank away and to tell him to leave me the fuck alone. How is he all of a sudden so concerned about me? He didn’t want a fucking thing to do with me all damn day. I’m mad at him.
No… No…Bink…you just got your pussy licked by the club president. You don’t have the right to be angry. You just cheated on your nice, normal boyfriend who has endured your biker family. He’s here to comfort you, like he always does, my conscience reprimands.
Guilt doesn’t seem to set in. I don’t feel an ounce of guilt over what Big and I just did. I’m heartbroken he walked out on me and sought out Marshall to come to my room instead. Presumably to take care of my sexual appetite. However, I’m not mad at myself from what else transpired. Not one iota. I can’t quite wrap my head around if I should be fuming that he sent Marshall, my boyfriend, in to feed my insatiability, or if I should be happy that he was that considerate. Or maybe I should be even more destroyed because he only went to Marshall because he had no desire to fulfill my needs himself. My heart and brain can’t come to a conclusion on that one quite yet. I can tell you one thing for sure, I am not even attempting to have sex with Marshall. I will be turned down and my fragile mental state can’t take another jab. And there is no way Marshall could service me like I need to be serviced anyhow. No offense to him, but he’s too vanilla and I don’t need vanilla. I need wild dangerous no holds barred sex, not careful calculated love-making. That’s for romantics anyhow. I am not a romantic in the slightest, at least not in the traditional sense.
“What do you need?” Marshall asks, in his buttery-soft loving tone. Dunno why, but right now it’s giving me the willies. I suppress a creepy shiver and flip into my side, away from him.
“I’m fine. Dunno why Big sent you. I’m good. You should go back out there, and hang with those imposters.”
“Those what?”
Me and my big mouth.
“Sorry, I meant my mother and sisters,” I try to recover, holding my tone neutral.
“You said imposters.”
“I didn’t mean it. You can leave. It’s okay.”
“I really like your mom and sisters.”
“You don’t say?” I can’t hold back my sarcasm now. He doesn’t just like them. He really likes them. That’s even worse. “And how do you feel about the rest of my family?”
“Which ones?” he asks, continuing to rub my arm affectionately.
“The ones who have colors on their backs, steeled toed boots on their feet, and carry guns,” I inform.
“Your brothers both seem nice. Big Dick, other than his eccentric name, seems agreeable.”
Agreeable? I internally scoff at the thought. Nobody in his right mind would describe Big as agreeable. Brutish? Decisive? Protective? Yes those fit him to a T. Agreeable? No. Not even close.
Marshall continues, “Gunz, I can’t say I am a fan of him. He’s too,” he pauses trying to come up with a word, “intense.”
“That would be Gunz,” I admit. Big too.
“Most of them seem satisfactory. I guess I’m just not cut out for this type of social interaction,” Marshall admits.
“You mean alcohol, nudity, and impropriety?” I’m speaking his aristocratic language now. What I wanted to say was -- you mean horny drunk bikers who treat fuckin’, drinkin’, and sayin’ the word fuck as a sport? That’s a little too imaginative for Marshall’s fancy vocabulary to digest without making him squeamish.
“That would be correct.”
My eyes flutter as they roll into the back of my head, steeped with agitation. Why did he have to come? And why did I have to come in Big’s mouth? Too many whys. I’ve had enough thinking for tonight. This is my brother’s wedding reception, and I have to treat it as such. I am going to put on my big girl panties back on and power through the rest of the night until tomorrow when Marshall and I ride on outta here in sleek German style. Just that thought has a wave of dread crashing through me.
“I think it’s time to rejoin the party,” I dampen my lips and push myself to sit on the bed. “You go ahead and spend more time with my family that you won’t see much of.”
“They are coming to visit in a couple of weekends. I invited them to the city,” he says.
“You what?” I try to remain calm and take in a deep cleansing breath, “Never mind.” I shake my head back and forth, tossing the impending visit from my mind before I go bat shit crazy.
“We will deal with that later.” Waving the notion off with my hand, I scoot off the edge of the bed to head toward the bathroom to use the facilities, freshen up, and throw on a clean pair of panties. Since my other ones are too noticeable if I grab them, as well as too damp from my arousal. I’ll toss them into my dirty laundry bag later on.
“See you later,” I shuffle across the floor and into the bathroom. I shut and lock the door from possible intruders. Using the facilities, I finish and wash my hands. Staring at myself in the mirror, I look like I’ve just fucked. My hair is a disaster, lips red and swollen from biting them in ecstasy. My cheeks are even rosy, as my eyes glisten from carnal satisfaction. I’m positively glowing and look a hundred times better now than I have in weeks. Wow, it’s amazing what a singular earth-shattering climax can do to you not only internally but externally. Thank you, Big.
Reaching into my makeup bag that’s resting on the counter, I reapply some clear gloss and powder my face to buff the sheen away. Dropping the compact into the bag, I delve my fingers into my hair and toss it around, giving it an even more spastic, just-fucked appearance. I’m too lazy to purposefully make it look messy-composed. Since Big sent Marshall into the bedroom to service me, I want him to think he did just that. Killing two birds with one stone. Lastly, I dig into my suitcase on the floor, find a pair of sexy red lace panties, and glide them on, over my shoes, up my calves and thighs, to secure them over my girl bits.
Finished, I shake out my nerves, flip the lock, and open the bathroom door. Marshall is patiently waiting for me on the other side. I go to open my mouth and argue that he didn’t have to stay, but the loving smile and offered elbow tells me he wanted to be there for me. Alright, maybe I’m not as mad at him anymore. He is sweet, after all.
I accept his arm, threading mine through, as he pulls the bedroom door open, and we both emerge from the bedroom into the hallway arm in arm. Escorting me down the hall, we pass a few brothers and their dates along the way. Entering into the common
room, I get an eyeful of bikers, bikers, and more bikers. They are in the full swing of the party scene. Some people are standing around conversing in groups, throwing their heads back in amusement, laughing loudly, and drinking like fishes. Others are seated and doing the same from the confines of their chairs. The music isn’t blaring as loudly as it usually is on a party night. A DJ has set up where the buffet table previously was. They must have broken it down while I was preoccupied with Big. The bride and groom have returned and are seated with some of the brothers; the people at my table haven’t moved an inch. Big is seated next to Marylou, his arm thrown over the back of her chair, like nothing between us ever happened. Pixie has pulled up a chair to the table, and so has Mickey.
“Where do you want to sit?” I ask Marshall.
“Where do you think?”
I glance over to see him scanning the room and stopping as his eyes lock on the table that my mother and sisters are still occupying. My father still hasn’t joined them. Now that I think about it, I’ve barely seen him today, and I’ve yet to see him and Lindy Sue interact. Something is very off about that.
“You can go sit with them,” I jerk a nod in their direction, and he exhales a sigh of relief. I release his arm.
“Thank you,” he mutters, kissing my cheek. Then off he goes bobbing and weaving through the throng of leather to rejoin those despicable human beings. Following his example, I make my way through the crowd as they part ways for me to find my seat which remains untouched at the far side of the round table, directly across from Big.
“There she is,” Deke raises his hands in the air with drunken gusto.
“Here I am,” I reply dryly, pulling out my chair and dropping into his with an exhausted huff. I could already use a nap and right now. I am not only tired, I am jonesing for some sugary goodness. Harley needs a sugar high.
Leaning over to Jezebel, I whisper, “Are there any sweets ‘round here?”
She leans in too, her acidic beer breath blasting me in the face. I hold my breath. “I think so,” she slurs. “There should be some cake left in the kitchen. They cleared out quickly for the DJ to set up.”
MC Chronicles: The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 2: (Motorcycle Club Romance Novel) Page 16
