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

by Bink Cummings

  He glances back up to meet my eyes, “You,” he rakes his gaze hungrily down my body. I shiver at the intensity, my skin tingling.

  “Your sweet fuckin’ pussy,” he licks his lips and stares down at my core. I squeeze my pussy around his cockhead, and he thickly groans, his eyes becoming heavier.

  He travels his gaze back up my body and halts to linger on my lips. “Your beautiful mouth,” he rests to swallow thickly. I watch as his throat constricts with emotion.

  “It’s all my home,” he finishes in a husky whisper.

  Under his penetrating gaze, I bite down on the corner of my lip, feeling the static heat build between us and the deep emotions. Big thrusts his hips a fraction of an inch further into my pussy and my eyes widen, delighting in the stretch, even though I know it shouldn’t be happening. The doctor said to be careful. We shouldn’t have sex because it could induce labor or cause me to dilate further. So could orgasms or the intense way he’s looking right through me. Couldn’t any of it bring our daughter into this world? Not that I want her here right now. I don’t. She needs to stay safe in my belly. The feel of his warm cock slipping further into my body, into my soul, is like a balm, both comforting and soothing as it feeds my need. This insatiable hunger can only be satisfied when the person you love sheaths himself fully inside you. A feeling where you are both connected as one, melded together not only physically but spiritually. I’ve never felt an emotional connection when a man was inside me, not before I first slept with Big. Now it’s an uncontrollable feeling I crave.

  “Big,” I mutter, and his glazed, hooded eyes move up to meet mine. “I need you inside me.”

  An expression of shock flashes across his face before one of understanding settles in its place, and he marginally shakes his head. “Babe.” That one word says so much. He wants it too, but his strong tone expresses I’m not going to get what I desire most. I’m going to be left unfulfilled and teased until I want to jump out of my skin and attack him.

  “Big,” I beg, rubbing over our bodies’ connection, then grabbing his shaft to guide him further inside. I can’t take no for an answer. I need more.

  He doesn’t budge. Though he does move both his hands to my thighs and lifts them, hooking them over his thighs as he sits on his feet, thighs spread, scooting his body closer to joining mine.

  “What do you want, my love?” his warm words wash over me like a smooth summer breeze, and he moves his hands up to my exposed belly, where he begins to caress it in tiny circles, while the tip of his dick remains seated just inside my wet pussy.

  “I want you,” I whisper full of longing.

  “What do you want from me?” he presses, gently sliding another quarter inch inside. Knowing damn well what I want most and tormenting me with it.

  I feel like I’m losing my mind.

  “What do you want from me?” he repeats darker, his eyes growing heavier, legs trembling so fiercely they shake the bed and headboard too. I know he wants this as much as I do. I can feel it in his hands as they try to stay occupied in my belly. The way his eyes roam my body, trying not to stop on any spot for more than a second. He’s toying with his own limited restraint, pushing it to its limits. I know this, he knows this, and all I can do is wish he allows his control to slip just enough to provide me with what he knows we both need—a full connection.

  “You. Inside me.” I reply, moving my hands up to cup my breasts, and I squeeze them, hoping that will entice him to the brink. I need him to fill me. I don’t know why, but I can feel it. My heart, my mind, every cell in my body aches for it. I’ve never felt anything like it. My breathing sputters in and out, my chest heaving for oxygen, while my skin everywhere yearns to be touched. It’s surreal, it’s euphoric, and it’s consuming.

  It’s certain I am losing my goddamn mind.

  “Why?” he tests.

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you want me inside you?”

  He can’t be serious, can he? Does he really expect me to tell him the real reason why? To tell him how I actually feel. I can’t do that. I can’t speak it. Not when I can barely understand it myself, half of the damn time. I just can’t. It’s too much. Too much to feel, to understand, to handle, to grasp. Why’s he pushing me? I don’t want to speak. I don’t want to think about us, about my feelings, about any of it. All I want is the connection. Doesn’t he see everything else is too much for me to handle without shattering all over the floor into a million tiny pieces?

  Swallowing hard, tears welling in my eyes, I screw them tightly shut and turn my head to the side, masking my face from his view. I can’t do this, not here, not now. Not after my heart broke last night seeing him lost to me. How scared I was. How many times I woke up in the middle of the night to make sure he was still breathing. Worried that he might slip away. And now he’s here, safe, normal, and he’s pushing the limits on my emotions that I, myself, can barely handle, much less confess.

  I feel his body move and cover me. His hands taking mine off my breasts and pinning them over my head, pressing into the mattress, as he curls over me, his abs grazing my belly. He stops trembling. I don’t fight him. He’s too strong, and I don’t want to move him. I love him touching me. Holding me. Surrounding me in his addictive scent and all that is him.

  Big’s hair falls like a veil around his face, and I can feel it tickling my cheek as he leans in to brush his lips over the shell of my ear. “I know this is hard, my love.”

  There are those words again. Those two words that are so small but mean so much.

  He continues, softly speaking to my ear, “I know our lives are never easy.” He moves to kiss my cheek before waging on. “I just spent days worried out of my fuckin’ mind, ‘cause I thought I might have lost not only the love of my life but my daughter too. Do ya know what that does to a man? How that makes a man feel when he’s helpless? When he has no ability to protect the one person who keeps his heart beatin’? If you weren’t still breathing on this earth, I would be dead. There’s no doubt about it,” he gruffly explains, running his nose down my ear to my jaw and sweetly kisses it with warm lips.

  I squeeze my eyes shut to keep the tears from running. Why is he talking to me like this? Doesn’t he know how much it makes me ache inside? The foreign feeling is just too much to bear. Too much to manage. I can’t take it. I’m about to break, if I don’t muster up the courage to do what I should do, and yell at him, telling him to get the hell off me. That would be the only way for this part of me to stay hidden, to stay safe, where he can no longer poke and prod at my delicate insides. Insides, I’d like to keep buried deep, and locked up tight in a bulletproof box, where he can never touch.

  He keeps on, “When I said I wanted to die in your arms ‘cause it’s the only place I’ve ever lived, I was bein’ honest. And when I told you that you own my heart and soul, ya do. Whether you believe it or not, it’s yours, every single sadistic, loving, scarred, battered, bruised and hidden part. It’s yours,” his lips travel back up to the shell of my ear, and I can feel myself growing weaker.

  “When I say that I love you, it’ll never be enough ‘cause those words mean nothin’ compared to how I truly feel. Even the parts of you that push me away ‘cause you’re terrified of how you might be feelin’, I still love ‘em. There isn’t a single fuckin’ part that I could ever stop thinkin’ about, ever stop dreamin’ about, or ever stop wantin’ to touch. Just havin’ ya near, Sugar Tits, feeds me, my cock, and as fucked up and girly as it sounds, my soul too. You’re mine. Always have been, always will be. Till I’m rottin’ six feet under, you belong to me, and even in death, I’ll belong to you,” he states matter-of-factly, leaving me no chance for misinterpretation.

  “Big,” I croak, tears leaking out of the corner of my eyes and onto the pillow.

  Big’s lips run the shell of my ear and down to my jaw where he runs the edge brushing the faintest of kisses before he replies, “Yes, beautiful?”

  Fuck! Why does he have to be romantic and so
damn sweet? Why can’t he be the asshole I usually know and love? Not this man, not this soft, loving man. I need my Neanderthal back. Not him, this man is messing with my mind, and more specifically my heart. For once they are both in agreement, this is too much. I don’t know how much more I can take. I need to lash out, to yell, to scream, to turn into the bitch I know I can be. But for whatever damn reason, my body can’t muster up the courage or the strength to fight this. It’s caving, even though I don’t want it to. My body is betraying me, and I hate it for that. I hate it so damn much.

  “Stop fighting it,” he sensuously laves his tongue along my jawline. I shudder, feeling it tingle down to the tips of my toes, as I gasp sharply.

  “Stop fighting what?” I force out, trying to sound oblivious and failing. Instead, I sound shaky and nervous. I wet my lips awaiting his reply. It doesn’t come right away. It’s like he’s trying to figure out what to say to me as he bathes my cheek and jaw with his hot breath.

  “Just answer me one question,” he offers, breaking the silence.

  That sounds fair.

  “Okay.”

  “Why do you feel like you need me inside you?”

  Son of a bitch! Anything but that damn question. I’m not answering it. Nope, not gonna happen.

  “I just do,” I blurt in reply, stronger this time.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Well your question was stupid.”

  He chuckles, clearly amused, and runs his nose up my cheek to nuzzle my temple. as his fingers that are threaded through mine pressed to the bed, tighten. “I was wonderin’ where my sassy biker bitch had gone. Was beginnin’ to think she disappeared,” he comments with a smile in his voice.

  Great, now he finds me funny. Guess that’s better than trying to pluck at my emotions.

  I snort at his comment, and he continues as I feel his cock flex in the entrance of my pussy. I try to ignore the delicious feeling and fail miserably when I expel a faint whimper that he doesn’t acknowledge.

  “I don’t think my question was stupid at all. You love me, and you’re tryin’ to deny it. Plain and simple.”

  Oh, so now he thinks he knows everything about me? So much for horny, I’m getting pissed now. I know he’s right, and you know he’s right. But damn, I’m not about to admit that. He can kiss my ass and fuck off. Who in the hell does he think he is tryin’ to tell me how I feel?

  “I was not tryin’ to do that,” I lie.

  “Then why did my words have you breathin’ like that?” He’s baiting me.

  “Because your fat ass is lyin’ on top of me, that’s why,” I lie through my fuckin’ teeth. I know he knows it too because he snorts a knowing laugh. Asshole.

  His lips kiss my temple, and he pulls away to look at me. Even though I can’t see it with my eyes closed, I can feel it as his eyes burn a hole through my cheek.

  “Try again,” he admonishes.

  He did not just fuckin’ say that to me! This makes my blood boil and I snap to look at him.

  Sneering at him, my lips cruelly drawn over my teeth, I rumble, “I’m not tryin’ a motherfuckin’ thing. Your sweetness is over! And my need to have your fat fuckin’ cock inside me is long gone, buddy. So you can get your big ass off me and move to the side, so I can get up and get on with my day,” I trail off, and then add, “Ya got me?”

  Big shakes his head, his face unimpressed but not angry. Not like I am. I’m fuming when I try to break my hands from his hold or move my body, and it does me no good. I’m trapped under this asshole. I guess when you wish for a Neanderthal you get one. Now look at what I have to deal with.

  “You’re not goin’ nowhere till ya answer my question, honestly.” He’s unrelenting, and I am quite aware he’s dead serious. But the fact of the matter is, I just don’t give a flying fuck. I hate being forced into situations like this. Especially after the emotional monsoon that’s been wreaking havoc for over a damn week. I mean, come on, can’t a woman catch a single break even for a moment? A chance to breathe? Maybe gain her bearings back? Apparently not.

  I glare at him, and if I could, this would be the time I’d throw my arms defiantly across my chest for effect. “I have nothing to say,” I reply looking at him straight in the eye. Even though in reality, I have much to say. Just not the shit he wants to hear.

  “Listen,” he huffs, exasperated. “I know ya love me,” his brow cocks up in challenge.

  I don’t confirm nor deny his statement. I remain impassive, as he watches me, waiting for a reply. I refuse to give him one.

  Then everything in the room changes. What I predicted might happen next doesn’t. My world explodes, and my eyes go as round as saucers as my heart leaps into my throat when Big shoots off the bed with a frustrated growl, leaving me naked on the crumpled sheets with my pussy empty. Instantly, I knife up in bed and open my mouth to speak but am stunned to silence when Big doesn’t even spare me a second glace and darts out of the bedroom door, into the hall, slamming the door shut in his wake, wearing nothing but his boxers. The harsh sound of the door closing clashes piercingly against the room’s walls, and I fear that my ears might bleed.

  My temples begin to drip sweat as I stare at the newly closed door. My adrenalin surges through me. Harley kicks and I rub her momentarily while my brain tries to process.

  What the hell just happened?

  “Gunz!” I hear Big roar in the hall. “Gunz!”

  Not wasting another second to contemplate what the hell just came over him, I scoot off the bed and scurry to dress in last night’s shorts, as I tug down my shirt to cover my breasts and belly. Not sure how Big even undressed me without me waking, but I don’t have time to think about that right now. Something is happening, and it’s not good. He’s on some sort of mission.

  The sounds of brothers yelling back and forth bounce off the hallway walls just as I finish dressing. Exiting Big’s bedroom, I shut the door, leaving it unlocked and waddle my way down the hall toward the common room where all the yelling has ensued.

  “Gunz. Outside. Shed. Now!” I hear Big demand.

  Which can only mean one thing—Bloodshed. The shed or behind the kennels are where punishments are dealt, with knives, brass knuckles and worse, much much worse.

  I move quicker and enter the common room to see Big standing beside the bar, his naked back to me, pointing to the front clubhouse doors. “Now!” he thunders in Gunz’s face.

  Gunz shakes his head, disagreeing. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he speaks levelly.

  “It is,” Big fires back.

  Hesitantly, I inch closer. When Viper and Jizz finally see me, they head my way, stopping me in my tracks, away from Big. Big’s in the middle of something heated, something that has Gunz running his hand over his bald head, frowning, eyes clouded with sadness. He yanks a sucker from his cut and shoves it into his mouth, hallowing his cheeks as he sucks powerfully. His eyes survey Big. The room grows quiet, like they’re awaiting Gunz’s final say on the matter at hand, whatever it may be.

  Seconds feel like hours, as my heart pounds in my chest, thumping in my ears. Jizz and Viper stand next to me, like my own personal bodyguards. Viper throws an arm over my shoulder.

  I don’t know how Big knows, but he does when he commands, “Remove your arm, brother, unless ya want it ripped off,” to Viper, with his back facing us. He’s angry, out of breath. Although I can’t see his face, I’d have to guess he’s sweating too, his eyes demonic. I need to see for myself.

  Viper drops his arm, and I step forward. Jizz grabs my shoulder, restraining me. I turn my head to the side and glare at him. I’ve had about enough of this.

  “Don’t you touch her either,” Big growls before I get a chance to argue with my brother. Jizz submits, removing his hand while offering me a woeful look.

  Shrugging off Jizz’s expression, I go to Big and place my hand on the middle of his back. It’s slick with moisture, and his pulse is racing, pounding against my palm.

  “
Do you really think this will fix things?” Gunz interrogates, looking to Big then to me and back again.

  “I know it has to be done. Nothing can move forward if everyone is livin’ in the past,” Big explains, calmer than I expected.

  “What are we talking about?” I interject.

  They ignore my question, all of them, and Gunz moves fully into Big’s space. He clamps his hand around Big’s neck and yanks his head down to meet his. Forehead to forehead. “You zoned out last night, brother. You think you can handle this now?” Gunz questions, white sucker stick poking out of the side of his mouth.

  Big follows Gunz’s lead and grasps the back of Gunz’s neck in a brotherly way, locking them as one. He nods against Gunz’s forehead. “Yeah, I was exhausted last night. Pretty sure that’s all it was. No sleep for days. Long ridin’. And…well…you know…”

  Gunz seems to understand what ‘you know’ actually means when he returns a nod to Big’s forehead. Hate to admit it, but I am fucking clueless as to what’s going on. Except that the shed was mentioned, and that’s a place of torture. Less than five minutes ago, Big was inside me, and now this is going on. I’m having a damn hard time playing catch up. What do you think?

  “Do you think she can handle it?” Gunz inquires next, in his strong, you-better-be-fucking-right voice.

  By she, I’m guessing they’re talking about me in front of me. What am I chopped liver? I am standing right here. Can’t they ask me if I can handle something or not?

  “She doesn’t have a choice. It’s the only way to show her.”

  What? Show me what? What in the fuck!

  “Hello!” I call out irritated. “I am right here. Would either of you care to clue me in?” I drop my hand off Big’s back and curl it around my belly to rub Harley, so I can center myself before I go off. I need to calm down. I’ve been worked up to much today already. This adrenaline buzz I’ve got going on isn’t helping either.