The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 4 (MC Chronicles #4)

by Bink Cummings

  “It’s after six,” he answers.

  “I’ve been asleep that long?”

  It’s been four hours? That’s not acceptable.

  A lump of guilt forms in my throat.

  What have I missed in all that time?

  “Ya needed it, babe. Givin’ birth ain’t no cake walk.”

  He’s right. I know that, but still…

  “Where is everyone? I didn’t even get a chance to say thank you before I passed out.”

  More guilt curdles deep.

  “Thank you for what?”

  “Helping today.” That’s pretty self-explanatory; not sure why I need to clarify.

  Big scoffs under his breath, careful not to wake our babe. “You’re shittin’ me, right?”

  Frowning, I poke out my bottom lip. “No.”

  “Well, you damn well better be. Your sisters don’t need to be thanked.” Frustrated, he shakes his head. “And they’re all here. The brothers have been chompin’ at the bit to see her,” he jerks his chin to Harley, “and you.”

  “They haven’t seen her?” Why in the hell hasn’t he showed them? It’s been hours.

  “Hell no,” he growls.

  “What? Why not?”

  “You need to be there, that’s why. And they understand that. The sisters have already made dinner and everyone ate. They saved us both a plate. Now they’re all hangin’ in the basement.”

  I can’t believe he did that. I’m not sure if that’s sweet or stupid. Maybe a little of both. Granted, probably more sweet, since I did want to see everyone’s reactions when they get to meet Harley for the first time.

  “So they’re down there drinkin’ like fishes and playin’ video games?” I raise a brow, tucking my hand beneath my head. A twinge of pain reminds me that I just gave birth. Hell, my entire body pretty much aches. I’ve gotta take things slow. Next stop, pain killers.

  Big shakes his head. “No.”

  “No?”

  “Those fuckers aren’t allowed to be drunk when meetin’ our girl for the first time. Blimp hasn’t even lit up all day. He’s stone sober. Hell, I’m sure Deke would murder any of ‘em if they drank a drop.”

  Now that, I believe. He’s an over-protective one, that’s for sure.

  “Did Doc go home?” I change the subject, not wanting to dwell on the fact that almost my entire family has been cooped up in that basement all day without an ounce of liquor to quench their perpetual need to party. Because, if I do dwell, I’ll think about how nice of them that is and how much that hits me straight in the center of my chest. Then I might just cry, which I’ve done plenty of. These hormones better level out soon, ‘cause this cryin’ shit is not something I like to do.

  “Nope. She’s downstairs, too. She looked over Harley after ya passed out, and she also weighed and measured her.”

  The urge to weep surfaces. However, I stamp that bitch down. “I missed it.” My bottom lip trembles and I suck in a sharp breath, reeling in the final douse of my emotions.

  “No. Gunz videoed the whole thing so you could watch.”

  I guess that’ll have to do.

  “How much does she weigh?”

  “Eight pounds, three ounces. About two pounds too fuckin’ much.”

  Whatever. She’s perfect.

  “I was about a week late, Big. And she’s your daughter. I’m amazed she wasn’t ten pounds.” That was something my midwife and I had spoken about many times. Big being the size he is, we were pretty sure she’d follow in his footsteps. Surprisingly, we were wrong. Although eight pounds isn’t a bad size.

  “That’s what Doc said. But that’s still a helluva lot of baby to push out that sweet pussy of mine.”

  Grinning, I roll my eyes hard enough that he catches it. An amused grunt is his response. “You already know my pussy will get tight again. We’ve talked about it,” I remind.

  “What?!” he hisses, loud enough to make our daughter jump, her eyes snapping open. Gently rubbing her back and across the little puffs of blonde hair at the base of her neck, he settles her down until she returns to dreamland. “You think I give a flyin’ fuck if your pussy is loose or not?” he finally adds.

  Blushing with shame, I bury my face into the pillow. All men care about that. I’m not stupid.

  “Hey.” A domineering finger taps the side of my head. “Hey, you better look at me, babe.”

  Fine.

  Not wanting to fight, I do, only because he’s being nice.

  My cheek rests on my pillow as my eyes cast up at Big, who’s equally entranced in me. He shakes his head for the millionth time today, running his hand over the top of his low man-bun. “I don’t give a flyin’ fuck if you have the loosest damn pussy in the world.” I open my mouth to argue that he’s full of shit, but I’m cut off as he carries on. “You gave me this precious little leech.” His hand strokes her back, his gaze swinging to her with pure joy. Then back to me with the same abundant love.

  Regardless of those spellbinding eyes, that ridiculous nickname strikes a nerve.

  “Don’t call her that,” I reprimand, meaning every word.

  “I’m gonna call her that.”

  The hell he is.

  “That’s a terrible nickname to call your daughter,” I snip.

  “Seein’ her suckin’ on your tit while you were dead to the world, I decided that’s her name.”

  Nope. Not gonna happen. Over my dead body. Who in the hell nicknames their child hours after she’s born? Her name’s Harley, for Christ sake; it’s not like the girl needs another name to be called. At least not yet.

  “That’s awful.” I’m not letting up.

  Unyielding ice-blue eyes meet mine. “Get used to it, Sugar Tits.” He’s defiant.

  Nope, he can fuck off where the sun don’t shine.

  “You can’t call a baby leech. Seriously. That’s messed up, ten ways from Tuesday.” With effort, I sluggishly sit up in bed until my back settles against the cool headboard, sending a chill down my spine. Big protests as I move. I ignore him and do whatever the hell I want. Seated upright, milk seeps from my nipples, so I wipe it off before folding my arms rebelliously across my chest. Then I garner eye contact again. This time having a firm grasp on my attitude and fizzy hormones.

  “As I was saying, you can’t name our daughter leech.” Yep, my sass is fixed in the motherfuckin' on position. My adrenaline pumpin’. Hell, I can’t even feel any pain right now. That’s a relief.

  “I just did. You named her Harley, so I’m nicknaming her.” Big’s face is unreadable. Tone level. I can’t tell if he’s pissed, neutral, or tickled. I hate when his face is Switzerland.

  Grasping at straws, I try to reason with him. “Can’t you just wait? I mean until she’s a little older.”

  “See these lips.” He points to her teeny pink mouth that’s making a sucking motion even though nothing’s in there. “Our girl likes to suck. She’s a leech, babe. And I’ll be killin’ the boys when she decides she wants to suck somethin’ other than your tits, or her thumb and lips.”

  Gah! This man is a pain in my ass.

  “You have a sucking fixation, Big. First, you name me Bink—”

  “No,” he interrupts. “You basically named yourself Bink. I did not.”

  “You so did.”

  This is not how I saw my daughter’s birthday going. Her mother and father arguing over some bizarre nickname. Although, in true fashion, it fits our usual M.O. Always bickering at the stupidest damn times. Kinda surprised this is the first time today. I love my Neanderthal, but I don’t like him when he's unreasonable—like right now. Don’t you agree?

  “Big’s Bink. You came up with that all on your own when you were a cute little shit.” He smiles thoughtfully.

  “What? I’m not cute anymore?” I tease, batting my eyelashes like a fool to try and defuse the situation.

  “Shit, no. You’re sexy as fuck.”

  Grimacing, I look down at my body. Yeah, I’m definitely not feeling sexy in t
he least. I still look pregnant, and those stretch marks look like a saber tooth tiger tore me up.

  “Stop doin’ that,” he scolds, so I school my expression. “I know that look. You’re always gonna be sexy ‘cause you’re mine and ya make my dick hard. Now stop moping and let’s show off our little leech to the fam. Then we can give her a bath. Yeah?”

  Fine. I’ll let it go for now.

  Instead of arguing, I ask, “You didn’t bathe her either?” as Big carefully climbs off our mattress with our princess still laying on his chest. He uses one hand to secure her entire body in place.

  Freezing at the end of the bed, Big pivots on his heel to glower at me, lips pursed, forehead creased. “Jesus, woman, do ya not know me at all? I would never do that without you. Especially not the first damn time. She was already pretty clean from bein’ in that pool with us for so long.” He takes a step toward the door. “Now, I’m gonna go tell Deb to make the men sanitize their hands before I do somethin’ stupid and suck those fat tits into my mouth.” His eyes zero in on my breasts, and I find myself feeling extra self-conscious so I cover them with my hands, refusing to meet his gaze. My cheeks burn hot under his scrutiny, my heart fluttering with repressed nerves. I wish he’d look away.

  I tug the blanket higher.

  “Babe,” his tone is gruffly deep, yet gentle, “ya gotta stop that.”

  I don’t think I can, I’m desperate to say. But choose to remain quiet instead. Head tipped, hands clutching the blanket, my eyes remain glued to my comforter clad legs.

  The sound of the door opening resonates. “I’ll hand Harley off to Gunz and I’ll be back in to help ya get ready. Then we can go sit in the living room. But you need to get a hold on that coverin’ up in front of me. I’ll let it slide this once. But I don’t want you hidin’ your body from me again. It’s too damn beautiful,” he finishes, closing the door in his wake, not awaiting my reply.

  God, I wish I could believe his words about my body being beautiful. To me, it looks like a mangled shipwreck. Dropping the blanket, I run my fingers over my swollen belly where my stretch marks bounce under my tentative touch. Ick. At least I got the most amazing thing out of this. A healthy daughter, who my old man has decided he’s going to call leech… Who in the world calls a baby that? Apparently him. Another battle for another day. Now I just gotta get outta this bed and face my family. I sure hope they’re excited as I am. I know they’re gonna love her.

  Sitting on a makeshift throne at the front of the living room like the Queen of England—which is nothing more than a rocking chair and a blanket strewn over my bare legs—I keenly watch Gunz carting my precious cargo around the room like a football. About fifteen minutes ago, he’d had enough of everyone playing hot potato with her, so he’s claimed her for himself. Not that I mind. I’m trying to be patient and let everyone get their turn with my babe. It’s harder than I thought it would be, but I keep reminding myself that I’ll have plenty of sleepless nights to bond with her. Giving my family their baby fill is more important than this growing, protective ball in my gut that makes me want to snatch her away and selfishly keep her all to myself like Gollum in The Lord of the Rings—my precious. Hey, don’t judge me, I can’t help it. She’s so damn cute all bathed and wearing a tiny pair of black and pink footed pajamas. Even the tiny little Harley cap on her head is adorable. Although, I don’t like that it covers her headful of blonde hair.

  The entire evening has been nonstop since Big helped me from the bedroom. Everyone held Harley after Big gave her a bath on the kitchen counter, next to the sink. I sat on a stool beside him and watched. Amazingly, she didn’t scream and seems to be quite content with everything—except diaper changes. Those, she despises. Not that I blame her; the cold air hitting my who-ha doesn’t feel good either.

  Big and I’ve eaten our dinners that Deb had reheated for us. My Sacred Sisters cleaned up the house. There are premade meals sitting in our fridge for the days to come. My daddy and Mandy even stayed long enough to get Harley snuggles. He mighta gotten choked up, then left shortly after that to regain his manly, no-cry composure. Not that he’d ever admit that. Even though I saw those red, shimmering eyes. Deke stayed as long as he could, but had to leave early on account of his girls. It’s summer break, so they don’t have school tomorrow, which is nice. Blimp even held my girl, tickling her with his grotesquely long, untamed beard. Gotta hand it to Harley: at only a few hours old, she seems to be wrapping the brothers tightly around her pinkie finger. Not that I mind. Gunz has always said I did the same thing since the day I was born. With him, I can believe it. As soon as I’d left the bedroom, he was at my side, handing me a sucker and giving me a big kiss on the forehead. That’s my Gunz for ya.

  My eyes track Big as he saunters through the room in a pair of black shorts and a white t-shirt. After just taking a shower, his hair’s lying wet down his back.

  “Hey, hot stuff!” I holler at him as he passes into the open kitchen.

  Stopping, he pokes his head in my direction with that dimple glued in place. “Yeah, Sugar Tits?”

  “Can you bring me a brush so I can do your hair?”

  That grin grows, making the edges of his eyes crinkle. “Babe,” he sounds all warm and fuzzy, making me feel the same, “ya don’t need to do that.”

  “But I want to. I’m kinda sittin’ here with nothin’ to do until Harley gets hungry, or Gunz decides he’s had enough. Which I don’t see happening anytime soon.” Gunz flashes me a knowing smile and wink. Yeah, I didn’t think so. About an hour ago, she ate from a bottle of my breast milk. I’d gone into the bathroom and pumped. Only three ounces came out, but guess that’s better than nothing. I don’t think she’ll be hungry for a little while longer.

  Gypsy and Mickey make their way over to me, and both bend at the same time to kiss either side of my cheeks. “Motherhood shines a beauty upon you that looks good there,” Gypsy whispers to my ear—ever the poetic scholar.

  Grateful for his words, I pat his shoulder as he pulls away. “Thank you.”

  He bows his head in silent reply.

  “We’re gonna head up to join the rest of the brothers at the clubhouse. But thanks for havin’ us here. It’ll be nice to see a little baby Bink runnin’ around.” Mickey chucks me under my chin and blows me a kiss. I smile in return.

  “Thanks for hangin’,” I call to both of their backs, as they say goodbye to their Prez, before raising their hands in farewell as they hit the entry hall. Everyone returns the gesture in kind.

  Viper slips around Beth, who’s busy talking to Gunz, then pops a squat on the floor right next to my feet. It’s the exact same spot Pretzel usually mans. “So you’re actually naming her Harley, eh?”

  Playfully, I flick him in the back of the head. “Yeah. You gotta problem with that?”

  “Hey,” he scolds lightheartedly, rubbing his head. A chuckle forms under his breath. “I was only askin’.”

  Sure he was. I’ve been getting ribbed about it for hours.

  Jizz steals a vacated chair in front of one of the windows, diagonal from us. Then he runs his hand through the back of his ponytail. “Yeah, sis, what the hell is up with that name? When I think of a Harley, I think of a dude. Hell, I know two different Harley’s from two of our other chapters. Don’t ya wanna give her a more feminine name?”

  Not sure if he's serious, or just a teasing jackass like normal, so with oomph, I flip my brother a big fat double bird. “Fuck off, Jizz. Unlike her hair color, we’re not runnin’ a bet on her name, or getting outside input.”

  Yep, you heard that correctly … a hair color bet. I swear these dumbasses find anything to gamble on. Apparently, the boys decided to run one on what hair color Harley would have when she was born. Only four people bet blonde. Everyone else thought brown, because they all swore she’d look more like Big. Guess they didn’t realize how strong our genes are. Well, they should have, considering every single one of my biological brothers and sisters have blonde hair and bluish eyes. Howev
er, you won’t hear me complaining about the bet, because Gunz, Big, Deke, and Mickey all put their money on my hair color. Yes, my old man bet on me. So now we’re sittin’ pretty on an extra two hundred bucks.

  “Stop givin’ her shit, Jizz.”

  Big sucks up the entire space with his massive hotness, and eyes Viper with a raised brow, silently communicating something. Viper moves away without question and Big drops down in front of me, expelling an aged groan. His back rests against the front of my chair, his shoulders wide. Unable to stretch my legs on either side of him, thanks to my seat’s narrow arms, I tuck my legs under me instead. Reaching over his shoulder, he hands me the handle of a brush. Taking it, I get to work gently brushing through his hair—something that I love to do. It’s so silky smooth under my fingers and smells just like him—delicious man.

  My brother doesn’t want to let up. “Big, you’re tellin’ me that when you hear Harley, you don’t think dude? We’ve got brothers with that name.”

  Despite the itch to tell my brother off, I continue to run my fingers and the brush through Big’s hair. Sometimes that boy has gotta shut it. And I trust Big enough to handle this correctly.

  Reaching over his shoulder, Big lays a hand on my knee. “If your sister wants to name our daughter Harley, she’s gonna name her Harley. It’s not up for discussion. Period. I don’t like you questionin’ her about it. That’s not your place. You’re not her old man or club Prez. I am. So you’re gonna show her respect, not only ‘cause she’s your sister, but because she’s my old lady and the mother of my child. Ya hear me?” His voice is deathly low—lethal.

  With apologetic eyes, Jizz raises his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry. You’re right. I just thought I’d see my sister havin’ a baby named Chelsea or Chloe, or somethin’ like that.”