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

by Bink Cummings

  Big lovingly grabs my bottom with both hands and scoots us toward the end of the bed.

  “Shit, I really tore this place up,” he states looking around, as he begins to stand. I wrap my legs tightly around his hips, his dick still nestled deep inside me.

  I glance around the room, breaking away from my Big daze, which I can’t seem to pull myself completely from. I still can’t believe what just happened. I feel like a rag doll, trying to keep my arms secured around his neck and my legs from falling away. Big must realize this because he kisses my cheek and tilts me to his body in a way that I can relax just enough I don’t have to worry about falling. I know that he’d never allow that, especially since I’m pregnant with his daughter. Damn, he’s sweet. I never thought I’d hear myself think that in my entire life.

  Big steps over his clothes and exits the room, headed to the bathroom. Yanking the door open and balancing me in his arms at the same time, Pretzels shoots out past us in a flurry of excitement, and I giggle, still in my drunken post climactic daze. Big enters into the bath, ignoring our dog, which I know has to be rubbing against his legs. He grabs a towel from the rack and drops it over the toilet before releasing my legs and setting me on top of the lid. I swallow the whine I want to impart from the loss of his warm, and oddly comforting semi-hard dick. I can’t sound like a needy bitch, so I try to keep myself from clinging to him, even though I want to when he lets me go. He strides over to the sink to turn on the water.

  Placing my hands on my thighs and my bare feet on the cool floor, I lean forward, trying to catch my breath, and wrap my head around what just happened. That was the best sex of my damn life. I can’t help but wonder how he feels about it.

  Reaching into the cupboard below the sink, Big extracts an ivory washcloth and runs it under the tap. Squishing out the excess water, he turns off the faucet and walks back to me. Kneeling at my feet in a romantic gesture, he pries my legs open. I don’t fight it.

  Pressing the warm washcloth to my pussy, he says with a lazy smile, “There, Sugar Tits. I think I made a mess.” He sounds happy.

  “I think we both did,” I reply, enjoying this sweet moment of him cleansing me after sex. “But you know you don’t have to do this,” I add, and reach down to take the washcloth.

  He bats my hand away. “You’re my woman, and I just filled your pussy. I’m gonna clean you up, and you better get used to it.”

  God, he is really fucking sweet. My heart swells, and I can’t help the smile that cracks from my lips. I can’t believe how happy I am. I could almost cry. But I won’t.

  Swiping up and down my sex, Big wipes me up and throws the washcloth into the hamper. Pushing himself off the floor, he stands and reaches out for me to take his hands. I do, and he tugs me up. My legs wobble beneath me like a newborn calf, and he wraps his arm around my back to stable me.

  “Noodle legs?” Big asks, a smile in his voice.

  “Yeah, a bit.”

  Big slowly walks me toward the tub, like he has all day. “Let’s get you in the shower, and I’ll go make us something to eat and clean up the mess I made.”

  “Okay,” is all I can say at this point. I’m kind of living in a weird twilight post climatic zone right now, and I’m in no way shape or form able to argue. So I don’t even try.

  Big holds my hand as I step into the tub. He turns on the water, feeling it until it turns warm. He pulls up the shower lever and the spray shoots from the showerhead, pelting my breasts. Big leans in and pecks me on my lips before shutting the printed curtain.

  “There should be some girly shit in there, so get washed up and meet me in the kitchen,” he says, then pushes back the shower curtain halfway. I’m shocked into silence when he leans in, his head getting pelted with the hot spray, and kisses me long and deliciously until my toes curl and I’m fighting for breath. He pulls away with a grin, pecks my nose, and pulls his soaked head out of the shower, tugging the curtain back to close.

  Um…Wow!

  “Mmmm,” he hums exiting the bathroom. “Best fuckin’ day of my life.”

  After I hear the door shut, I sigh and lean to rest my shoulder against the shower wall. I touch my swollen lips with my fingers and smile. I can’t believe how sweet this man is, and I really can’t believe that just happened. I know I keep saying that, but I’m in shock here. In a blissful, amazing, happy shock. Wow, this has been one helluva strange and exciting day. And it’s just begun.

  Stepping out of the steam filled bathroom, I am pleasantly assaulted with the scent of bacon and pancakes that only seem to smell even more fantastic when they’re joined with the sounds of Guns ‘N Roses playing in the downstairs kitchen as Big sings along in his deep off-key voice. Is there truly anything better than an orgasm or two and a man cooking? I think not!

  Reentering the bedroom with my towel wrapped around me, I glance around the room and am surprised how quickly he read up his tirade. Honing in on the freshly made bed, I smile huge as soon as my eyes take in the oversized black t-shirt and men’s boxers that Big has graciously laid out for me on the same place that not even an hour ago we became deliciously reacquainted on.

  Reaching down I cup my sated pussy, and relish in my moist swollen lips from the fuck of a lifetime, then a relaxing hot shower. Never in all my years would I have guessed I’d be in Big’s basement, dressing in his clothes, and carrying his baby. It’s funny how the world works in its mysterious and often times fucked up ways.

  Dropping the towel to the ground, I dress in my appointed attire.

  “Come get some grub, Sugar Tits,” Big yells down the hall as I finish pulling the boxers to the base of my pumpkin belly.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  The sound of nails scratching on the floor behind me has me turning around to see a happy go lucky Pretzel standing just inside the bedroom doorway, wagging his tail.

  “Did dad feed you some bacon, boy?” I ask my pups on my way out the door. Pretzel follows on my heels down the hall and into the living room/kitchen area. We both stop and watch the most handsome man in existence pulling bacon out of a skillet, shirtless, with his damp hair tied in a low man bun and his jeans hung loose on his thick hips. What a sexy sight.

  “Bacon and pancakes?” I comment, taking a step toward the tiny two-person table set right off the small basement kitchen.

  “Yeah, take a seat,” he replies, turning around and giving me a dirty smirk before laying the bacon on the table and pulling out a chair for me. “Sit,” he pats the backrest.

  I comply, and he pushes my chair under the table just a bit and bends down to kiss my forehead. The butterflies make an appearance as my insides quiver from his sweetness. He grabs the pancakes and syrup before taking the other seat. The seat, like I had thought, looks like it might collapse under his weight.

  Serving ourselves pancakes and bacon, we sit and watch each other eat in silence. Each time he bites into his crisp bacon, his penetrating eyes appraise me.

  “What?” I ask, after umpteenth time of being watched. It’s kind of making me feel self-conscious, and I never feel self-conscious. I could normally give two shits what people think. I care about what he thinks, even if I shouldn’t.

  “Nothin’,” he shakes his head, as if by shaking his head, I’ll stop pestering him.

  Fat chance.

  “Just say it.”

  “Nope,” he blurts before taking a drink of his milk. “I don’t wanna ruin this.” His hand reaches out to gesture between the two of us, a piece of bacon in his grasp. Then he takes a bite, tearing it with his teeth, with his glittery sated eyes on mine.

  “You’re gonna ruin it, if you don’t spill.” The last thing we need right now is secrets. I’ve had enough of those bitches to last a lifetime.

  Big stands from the table without a word and saunters barefoot down the hall. Moments later, he returns with a cut in his hand. Standing at the edge of the table, he holds out the cut and flips the leather around to show me the back where a rocker bar patch s
ays ‘Property of’ and at the bottom below the S.S.M.C patch is Big Dick’s name. Turning it back to the front, my eyes widen when the name patch reads ‘Bink’ in hot pink lettering.

  “What’s that?” I nod toward the cut.

  He raises a sarcastic brow, “What’s it look like?”

  “It looks like you’ve lost your damn mind if you think I’m wearin’ that thing,” I blurt, unable to take my eyes from my name that is embroidered on the chest.

  “Oh, you’re gonna wear it,” he demands, taking a step in my direction, closing the space between us. I could reach out and nearly touch him.

  “Uh, no,” I shake my head defiantly at his orders and lean back in my chair, tucking my arms over my breasts. “I don’t think so.”

  “You’re my old lady, and you’re carryin’ my baby. After you ran out on me and took my fuckin’ kid with ya, you ain’t got a choice. You’re not leavin’ and you’re mine, so take the fuckin’ cut or I’ll make you.”

  You’ve got to be shittin’ me. Does he really think this is gonna work?

  Perking up an inquisitive brow, I tilt my head to the side, assessing his stupidity. “Is that a threat?” I snip.

  “Nuh-ooo, Sugar Tits,” he drawls. “It’s a promise.”

  Whatever.

  He keeps at it, “I dunno why you’ve always gotta be such a pain in the balls. I love you. Dammit. There, I’ve said it again. Even if I am still fuckin’ pissed about everything else that went down. None of that shit matters anymore. You’re here. Now wear the damn cut.” He tosses it into my lap.

  Glancing down, my blood boils, and I sneer at the leather before shoving it onto the floor with a huff. Big leers at me in frustration. I remain seated and watch as the steam begins to billow from the control freak’s ears.

  You’d think the bastard would learn that just because I’m not fighting to leave doesn’t mean I’ve agreed to be his. Did I miss him? Fuck yeah, I did. Am I happy my secret is no longer a secret? Yeah, of course. I’m not some man’s old lady just because he says so. I don’t work that way, and you’d have thought he had gotten that damn memo when I left in the first place. Guess not.

  “Why?” he lowly grunts. “Why in the hell do you have to be such a bitch? Can’t you see I’m tryin’ here? I’m tryin’ not to stay pissed, but you’re makin’ it hard,” he sighs, deflated.

  He continues, “You think I liked havin’ you leave me? Or findin’ out you’re knocked up? It was hard enough not to come after ya in the first fuckin’ place and drag your ass home kickin’ and screamin’. But I didn’t. Gunz was the only reason you weren’t back here in September, like you shoulda been. I shouldn’t have listened to him when he said you’d come home; it took too damn long. But he fuckin’ promised me that shit. And said we’d keep ya here once you drove back through those gates on your own. Now you’re home and we are gonna be together, whether you like it or not! I’ve waited long enough. This ain’t on your time anymore, Sugar Tits, it’s on mine. I’ve played it your way, and I’ve paid for it. Never again.” He eyes the cut at my feet. “Now pick up that goddamn cut that I bought for you six years ago, and put it on,” he forcefully points to the pile of leather.

  I’m not moving. He can kiss my ass.

  “No,” I state decisively. Just because I am home doesn’t mean he gets to own and control me. If he wants this to work, we have to start out in a whole new way. Him ordering me around isn’t gonna be it. Some men never learn.

  “Yes,” he growls dementedly, as the muscles in his arms constrict, and he fists his hands inflexibly at his sides. Big’s jaw locks, and he grinds his teeth together in anger. I can tell he’s just about ready to lose it. Maybe I can get him to cool down before the shit storm activates.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” I kindly offer, keeping my tone level. He’s lucky I’m nice enough to try and work this out. I know I want him. The question is, can he keep me? Now that’s a damn conundrum.

  “What kinda deal?” his shoulders relax, and his hands open at his sides.

  Maybe I can make him chill out before this gets worse.

  “I’ll sleep in your bed three nights a week, and I’ll help at the club. But you can’t sleep with anyone else, no Marylou, no whores, no one except me. If you prove you can keep your cock to yourself and treat me like a damn person and not your fuckin’ possession, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll consider bein’ your old lady.” I’m not relenting on this; it’s my way or the highway.

  By the crease in his forehead and the flaring of his nostrils, I can tell this isn’t what he wants to hear.

  “Not good enough,” he snaps and crosses his arms over his chest. The firmness of his exposed pecs press up, and I chew my inner cheek at the sight of his perfect body. Even angry, he’s a woman’s wet dream.

  Stop thinking like that Bink. You’ve gotta stay pissed.

  “What the hell do you mean it’s not good enough? That’s all you’re gonna get,” I try to sound uncompromising. However, I fall short when my eyes travel down his body and hone in on the erection that hugs the inside of his pant leg. How can he be hard at a time like this? And how can I be wet? Didn’t we just finish fucking like an hour ago? Damn, I want him again.

  “I want you in my bed every fuckin’ night, and you can be damn sure I won’t be touchin’ another woman as long as you’re mine. And you better agree not to touch another man, which includes Deke and Viper.”

  Tossing my head back, looking at the ceiling, I bark a sarcastic laugh. “You think I’d need another man to satisfy me? You have lost your mind. I can’t even handle the man I got, let alone another one.” Why in God’s name would I want another man when Big is way more than I’ve ever bargained for? That is just ridiculous.

  “Say it again,” he commands.

  I look at him, my nose bunching in confusion. “Say what again?”

  “That I’m your man.”

  Sinisterly, I grin, “Well you are, aren’t you?”

  “Hell yeah I am,” he growls under his breath, advancing on me. Reaching under my arms, he lifts me effortlessly from the chair and picks me up. I wrap my legs around his waist.

  Carrying me over to the kitchen counter, he tosses the egg carton to the side before dropping my ass on the countertop.

  Threading his fingers through the sides of my hair, he pulls me closer and dips his head to brush his lips across mine. “These are mine,” he softly growls, teasing me with the warmth of his lips. Poking out his tongue, he sweeps the seam of my mouth, and I moan in my throat, savoring the overwhelming sensation that shoots to my toes.

  How is he such a fucking sex God?

  Releasing one side of my hair, he uses his hand to run up my thigh into my gaping boxers. His other hand fists my hair, sharply jerking my head back to offer my mouth up to him. Pressing his lips firmly to mine, I tighten my legs around his waist, holding him close. I squirm when I feel the rough pad of his finger feed its way up my boxers to the cleft of my pussy.

  “What do you want?” he breathes against my lips.

  “What do you want?” I turn the tables and briefly peck his lips. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of them. They’re full and juicy and delicious. And shit, this man knows how to use them.

  “I want you comin’ on my dick screamin’ my name.” His finger glides between my pussy lips and flicks my clit.

  I shudder an ecstasy-laden breath to his mouth. My body trembles in his arms.

  “That’s it,” he breathes to my mouth, his finger coaxing my clit to harden. Scraping his nail over the hood, I cry out when it comes in direct contact with his demanding finger.

  He continues, “I want you in my bed and your pussy in my mouth every fuckin’ morning.” He nips my bottom lip with his teeth. “Yeah?” he lowly growls.

  “Yeah,” I murmur, agreeing.

  “I want you on the back of my bike, livin’ in my house, havin’ my daughter. I wanna own all your smiles and only see you cry when you’re happy. I wanna die in your arms bec
ause it’s the only fuckin’ place I’ve ever truly lived,” he says decisively, as if he doesn’t even have to think about it. He knows what he wants. How is that possible?

  “Big,” I mutter, full of emotions. I close my eyes to keep the tears at bay.

  “Yeah, Sugar Tits?” he smiles to my mouth. I can’t see it, but I can feel it.

  Before I can speak, Big glides his finger inside me, forcing me to whimper with pleasure.

  “I can promise you this,” he says curling his finger up, hitting my g-spot.

  Fu-ck.

  “This pussy is only ever gonna be mine. And…” he thrusts his hips, emphasizing his next point, “this Big Dick, both my mind and my cock, is only ever gonna be yours. Even if you’re bein’ a bitch or pissin’ me off or makin’ me sleep on the couch, like I know all you fuckin’ women do. Even if you can’t stand the sight of me and wanna kick my ass, like I’m sure you wanted to do last night when I locked ya in the basement. I did it for your own good. Just as I always do shit that’s for your own good. I’ll never take you for granted. I never have before. And now that you’re my old lady –”

  I open my mouth to protest.

  “Don’t,” he warns, and that shuts me right up. I can’t believe he’s saying all of this. This is just nuts. Emotional and nuts. Even though I’m a chick, I don’t do emotions well. I’ve never been in love in my entire life until now, and this is a shit load to handle. That and being pregnant with jumbled hormones makes this even more difficult to swallow. Like a million times harder.

  “I know you don’t think you’re my old lady because you ain’t wearin’ my property cut and this is newer to ya. But you’ve been my old lady in my heart since you were eight-fuckin-teen, so a cut don’t mean a goddamn thing to me. Neither does you havin’ to come ‘round to it. You’ve been mine a long damn time, and I’m not gonna waste another day hearin’ you say otherwise. So if I gotta, I’ll lock you in this basement all damn day, come down to sleep with ya every night, and eat that hot pussy until you’re screamin’ my name. You can bet your ass, I’ll do that shit. You don’t wanna be locked down here, now do ya?”