The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 3 (MC Chronicles #3)

by Bink Cummings

  Stepping into the shower in front of him, I throw the shower curtain closed and revel in the hot spray. I move to the side a bit so the water hits him too. The water quickly turns into a mucky brown, reddish color as it washes the filth from his body and circles the drain close to my feet. I grab his body wash from the shelf, squirt some into my palm, and lather it up. Then I place my palm to his muscled, unmarred chest and begin to wash him. I work my way down, adding body wash as I go. I pay extra special attention to the boys and his flaccid cock that doesn’t even get a chubby as I rub the impressive length through my soapy hand. Big doesn’t make a noise from pleasure or move to touch me like he would normally. This knowledge somehow makes me even sadder. Even when a man is down and out or sick, he’s usually able to get hard from a woman’s caress. Not him, not now.

  Kneeling in the tub and moving down his legs, I notice a set of bruises forming on the tops of his thighs. I carefully wash over those and slide down his calves to his feet. For a man, Big has beautiful feet. I know most people wouldn’t normally find feet attractive, and I wouldn’t either, if they were anyone else’s feet. But his are somehow very sexy to me. They’re huge but not fat nor skinny. They’re perfect. His toes are aligned like they should be, and his nails are somehow, once again, perfect. How a man who wears motorcycle boots just about every single day of his life has this nice of feet seems almost impossible. Seeing as though I am looking at them as I scrub the tops with my hands, I know they exist.

  Once I’ve finished with the front, I stand and grab his hand that hasn’t moved from his side. Using his hand, I pull his arm across his chest and lovingly order, “Turn around for me, babe.” This seems to work because he does just that, and then I’m assaulted with the beauty of Big’s back. It isn’t like any other man’s back and behind. It’s like a marble sculpture. It’s magnificent. Even at his age, his cheeks are firm but bitable, and they even have tiny dimples. To put it in my terms, he has a hot fucking ass. His back is broad and thick and something to marvel at, especially with the canvas of tattoos inked across it. Big, bright, bold ones that cover it in its entirety. Where Big’s impressive chest and abs are tatted, they’re not wall-to-wall covered like his back. And that too is beautiful.

  Shaking my head, I break from my fascination and focus back on the task of cleansing Big. I scrub him from top to bottom and carefully shampoo and rinse his hair. I don’t try to turn him back around because that will be too much trouble, so I move to quickly wash myself and turn off the water. I slide the curtain back and step out. To my surprise, Big doesn’t even need my guidance when he steps out onto the bathmat right after me. We bump into one another, both damp from water. It’s not lost on me how good his warmed skin feels touching mine. I quickly file that away to feel later, when it doesn’t hurt so much.

  Using a towel I pull from the rack, I quickly pat myself dry and move my attention to Big. When I’m done with us and we’re both facing one another naked, I can’t help myself when I lunge forward and wrap my arms around him in a desperate hug. My cheek rests on his sternum and I inhale, smelling his fresh spicy scent. Big doesn’t reciprocate in any way, which I didn’t expect. Only dared to hope.

  With a sweet kiss to his sternum I unlatch myself from his warmth and go to the door. Opening it, I peek out, hiding myself behind the rest of the door so the brothers don’t see me naked.

  They’re both looking my way, silent, waiting for me to speak first.

  “Big is washed and dry, but I’m gonna need some help getting him dressed and into bed. You think ya can do that?”

  Dallas and Tripper approach the door, and I dash to grab a towel to wrap myself in. It’s too small but it’ll have to do. They knock before entering and I move to the corner of the small bath giving them the room they need to maneuver about. Both men take hold of Big’s biceps, and they guide him from the room and pull the door shut in their wake.

  I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with Big now that he’s showered and getting dressed. I didn’t think that far ahead. Honestly, I didn’t think it’d take him this long to snap out of it. It’s not like him to do any of this. But it’s also not very likely for him to ride home after hours on the road, covered in blood with scratches on his cheeks. I’m out of my depth here. I don’t know what to do. I do know he needs to sleep, if that’s possible with his current state. And I just want to hold him. I want him to come out of whatever it is that he’s in.

  I don’t have any clothes in the bathroom, so I kick Big’s messy ones to the corner to deal with later and crack the door again, peeking out. Dallas and Tripper have already gotten a pair of boxers on Big, and they’re putting him to bed. This time he’s kind of helping them. Not much progress but some is better than nothing.

  Once I see that they’re done, I comment from the crack in the door. “Uh…. guys…. I need to come out to get some clothes. You’re free to leave us now. I’ve got it.”

  Dallas is the first to acknowledge me, and he looks none too happy when his lips draw into a thin line. When Tripper looks my way, he doesn’t seem to be much happier. What did I say?

  Tripper speaks first, shaking his head, and running a hand through his hair, “Nope, we’ll leave ya to get dressed but in Big’s state…”

  Dallas cuts in, finishing Tripper’s sentence. “We don’t trust him. So we’ll station somebody outside the door for the rest of the night, should you need anything.”

  “K, thanks,” I mutter and that seems to suffice because they both looked instantly relieved. It’s like they expected me to fight them on this. I’m not going to because I’m just as concerned about this as they are. Maybe even more so.

  Tripper and Dallas exit the room, and I waddle out of Big’s bathroom heading straight for his closet, where I find a pair of knit shorts and an oversized tee for me to throw on. I’ll get better clothes tomorrow. Then I leave the closet and head straight back into the bathroom. I open up the medicine cabinet and grab the tube of triple antibiotic ointment. Taking that back into the bedroom, I hesitantly approach Big. He’s lying on his back, stiff as a board, head on a pillow, blanket strewn over his legs. His eyes are closed. He looks dead, and I would think so if he didn’t open his eyes as I draw closer, which not only startles me, making me jump a little, it delights me too. I love his ice-blue eyes and seeing them open. Even if they’re lifeless, it’s better than not seeing them at all.

  Stopping next to the bed, I open the tube of ointment and apply it to the fresh marks on Big’s face. He doesn’t react in any way. Not to indicate they hurt or anything. He’s killing me with his silence.

  Finished, I toss the tube on the floor, climb on the bed, and straddle Big. My knees rest on either side of his hips, like I’m riding him, and I place my palms flat on his pecs.

  “Big,” I whisper, intensely watching his face for recognition. Nothing. Dammit!

  I keep going, “I don’t know what happened or didn’t, babe. But I need you to give me some sort of indication my man’s in there. If not, I’m gonna be forced to call the doc in the morning to have you checked out.” I reason with him the only way I know how. And I kinda lie because I was already going to call the doctor in the morning even if he does give me something to go on.

  A little while later after I’ve exhausted my efforts of sitting on Big and trying to talk to him, feeling like I’m speaking to someone in a coma. I climb off and rest next to him in the bed, my leg hitched over his, hand on his stomach. His eyes remain open, cast downward, body still, breathing even.

  A knock sounds at the door. Before I can answer, the door creeps open, and Gunz peeks his head in. “You done talkin’, finally?”

  Finally?

  I lift my head from the bed, looking over Big’s body at Gunz. He steps into the room, shutting the door behind him and rests his back against it, ankles crossed.

  “What do you mean finally?” I grumble.

  “I’ve been out there waiting for you to stop tryin’ to get him to snap out of it for the pas
t hour.”

  “I was talking to him for that long?” I emphasize, my eyes widening at the length.

  “Yup,” Gunz divulges, “I was waiting for you to tell him how you did the dishes and laundry and how much you hated to use bleach.”

  “Hey,” I scold. “I do hate using bleach.”

  Gunz chuckles gruffly, shaking his head, amused. “I know that, Baby Doll. But you kinda talked ‘bout everything else that wasn’t important. Surprised his ears didn’t fall off.”

  I snort at his sarcasm and roll my eyes.

  It’s true though. I tried to keep it light, didn’t want to bring more drama into the fold. So I told him stupid things like my cookie recipe and how many pounds of hamburger I put in my chili. I couldn’t think of much else besides food stuff so that’s what I stuck to. That and how much I missed him and wished he’d come back. Lame, I know, but that’s all I’ve got. I’m not very cultured outside of club life. I know cars and bikes, but I figured he already knows all that stuff so I didn’t need to retell him. So I went to things he knows nothing about, like cooking. He’s a terrible and happily inexperienced cook. Told me many times over the years that women were made for cookin’ and he was made for eatin’. Guess that’s a better explanation than saying he was just too lazy and disinterested to ever learn. Trust me I’ve tried.

  “What’s up?” I change the subject.

  “Just checkin’ in on you two,” he jerks his chin our way and pulls a sucker from his cut. He pops it in his mouth.

  “We’re good. I think he needs to get some rest, and maybe he’ll be alright tomorrow.” As I’m saying this, all I’m doing is hoping. I know this might not be a reality. But hope’s all I have at this point. I’m exhausted and tired of all the drama and crazy emotions that come along with it. I would love to have just one normal day. As the saying goes, when it rains it pours. And it’s a monsoon up in this bitch.

  Gunz strides to the bed and leans over Big’s prone body to place a kiss upon my forehead, “I sure hope you’re right.”

  “Me too,” I mutter.

  He kisses between my brows again, and I relax more into the bed against Big’s warm body, right where I belong. “I’ll see ya in the mornin’. White Boy will be outside your room tonight.”

  “Sounds good,” I reply tiredly and stifle a yawn, as my eyes become heavy.

  Gunz pulls away and goes to the door. “Be good,” he states before flipping off the light switch and quietly shutting the door in his wake.

  Snuggling down into bed, my body wrapped around Big, I kiss his chest and whisper, “Get some rest, baby. We’ll figure all this shit out tomorrow.” The urge to finish that sentence with I love you claws at my insides, but I hold it in. I hate to do it. You can’t tell a man that you love him for the first time when he’s not even in his right mind. Guess it’ll just have to wait.

  Time to catch some shuteye. After the damn day I’ve had, I could use a good night’s rest.

  Until we meet again….

  Peace….

  Tuesday, April 22, 2014

  “Oh my fucking God, Richard Darcy, what are you doing?!” I screech at the top of my lungs, tears streaming down my face. Why… why… is he doing this to me? My heart is breaking. God it hurts. My fucking heart is ripping from my chest! How could he do this, to us, to our daughter?

  “If you don’t wanna watch, then get your ass outta here. I’m not makin’ ya stand there.” Big shoos a hand in my direction, giving me the cold shoulder, as his fist wraps around a curvy brunette’s hair from behind.

  “Why would you do this?!” I shrill, wide-eyed as my hands begin to tremble at my sides.

  Why would Big do this? Why does he have this nasty whore bent over the bar? Why are her fat tits smashed upon bar top? And why… oh… my…fuck…why, does he have her denim miniskirt pooled around her waist as he fucks her pussy from behind?

  Grunting as he pumps into her pussy, he ignores me and hammers into her hard. So hard that the slapping sounds echo in the common room, and the brunette moans in raw ecstasy with each deep thrust.

  “Give it to me,” she purrs, and he obeys by winding her long hair tighter around his fist, yanking it back. Her chest lifts off the bar top as her back sharply arches, and his other hand roughly palms her breast, using it as leverage to tear her cunt apart.

  I can see everything. Every single agonizing moment, as I stand here beside the bar watching in pure debilitating shock. I can see the way his chest pumps for air as he pants, fucking her in earnest. The front of his jeans are unbuttoned and unzipped, and he’s pulled his bare cock through the flap in his boxers to fuck her. I see each precise thrust when he pulls out of her wetness, and her pussy juices gleam on his shaft before he slams back inside with a pleasure fueled grunt.

  “You like that, bitch?” he groans, slamming his hips forward. She squeals her approval, with her head tilted back, mouth agape. Her tits jiggle.

  My heart stops beating, and my breath falters. A strange sensation flares through me, and then I feel it, a rush of wetness run down my legs. Oh fuck! Not now! Not here.

  I clutch my belly as the water continues to run, pooling around my feet, soaking my slippers. I look down, away from the sick fuck fest.

  Oh my god, our daughter is going to be coming today. It’s too soon. He did this to me. He made her come. Him and fucking a club whore merely hours after waking up made my water break. I hate him. I hate him so much.

  My breathing accelerates, as I begin to hyperventilate caught in a state of… I don’t know what… and my entire body begins to tremble.

  Reaching between my legs I feel something. What the hell? That can’t be happening yet. That’s impossible. That can’t be her head, it’s huge!

  “That’s it, Sugar Tits, it’s about fuckin’ time ya woke up.” Big’s voice sounds light, and happy.

  Wait… what? Where’s that coming from?

  I look up to see him fucking the whore over the bar. Only this time she’s not just some brunette I’ve never seen before, it’s Niki. Since when did Big fuck Niki? Gunz is gonna kill him!

  Suddenly, a warm wetness slides over my pussy. Fuck. That feels amazing.

  “Come on, babe,” Big speaks warmly. Then a firm delicious wetness slides between my folds. I feel my toes curl, and I groan at the feeling, holding on tightly to whatever that giant thing is between my legs. Whatever is doing that to me, I hope it never ends. It feels so damn good.

  “Sugar Tits, open your eyes,” Big’s gruff voice demands, and that firm wetness moves lower and circles my asshole.

  My eyes fly open, and I wail, “Oooooo!”

  Panting and disoriented, I frantically inspect where I am. We’re in Big’s bedroom, and I’m still laying in Big’s bed. Not in the common room where Big is fucking a whore. I sigh, sagging with relief and lean up to see a smiling and gorgeous as ever, Big, lying between my legs, his tongue caressing my throbbing core.

  Thank fuck it was just a damn dream. It felt so real though. The way he banged that whore and the way my heart fell apart watching him do it. All the detail, it felt like I was there. Glad I wasn’t. I don’t think I could survive another moment like that. Not after Niki, Marylou, and then the blow job. Most women would have kicked Big to the curb long before this. And if I didn’t love him like I do, I would’ve too, that’s for damn sure. But looking down at his handsome marred face, it’s impossible not to love him. He’s it for me. Even if I refuse to tell him that myself. Can’t be that forthcoming. Gotta make a man work for it, especially one like him.

  Realizing my hand is in Big’s hair, I comb it through his free locks and genuinely smile at him. “I missed you,” I mutter thickly, holding back tears of relief. Relief that he’s okay, that he’s awake, and that he seems happy. So happy that he’s smiling at me, and his eyes are lighting up so beautifully. The ice-blue somehow seems even glitterier than before, as they’re highlighted by happy lines accenting his eyes and his thick dark lashes.

  I swallow hard a
nd bite my lip at the intense emotions that consume me. I’m home. He’s home. We’re together. The world has returned to some semblance of normal. Of safety. No more kidnapping, no more pain, no more him leaving me for two weeks, nothing. It’s just us. Big and Bink in his bedroom, without anything else.

  My lip wobbles, and I suck in a shuddering breath as I blink rapidly to keep from crying. I’m gonna fucking cry. I can feel it. What kind of stupid-ass cries when her man is licking her pussy with a smile that sexy? Apparently this one.

  “Don’t,” he warns tenderly. “Don’t cry my sweetheart. I’m whole, and you’re safe and beautiful as ever. And I just need to get a few of these kisses,” he dips his head between my legs and kisses my pussy.

  That’s it, I’m done for. My heart explodes with immense love, and the happy tears that I tried to stop come tumbling down my cheeks.

  “It tastes so fuckin’ good,” he groans before his tongue pokes between my lips, slides up my slit, and back down where he circles my hole. He pokes his tongue inside, and I let out a hardy moan, tightening my hold in his soft hair.

  “That’s right, Sugar Tits. I missed you too, baby,” he speaks to my pussy and delves his tongue back inside, swirling around and around and back out again. Gliding it up to my clit, he nibbles on the throbbing bundle of nerves, proving to me once again that he’s a fucking sex magician.

  “Oh shit,” I unleash a moan, arching my back off the bed. Threading both of my hands through his hair, I hold him to my needy pussy. It throbs with the rapid beat of my heart. Closing my eyes, I revel in the exquisite feeling of unadulterated euphoria. I’m gonna come.

  Flicking is tongue ravenously over my swollen clit, Big stops and sucks it into his mouth.

  “Hmmmm,” he groans erotically in his throat, sucking my bud even harder. My hands in his hair tighten, and I let out a strangled cry of approval, as pleasure claims me from the inside out. I relish in the way his rough cheeks scratch my engorged folds and the way his hot breath bathes my cleft as he works himself up to a frenzy eating my pussy like he’s starving.