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

by Bink Cummings

  Fuck! I just wish this would stop.

  ‘Crack!’ Not closing my eyes quick enough, I watch in agony as Gunz slams his weapon wrapped fist into Big’s ribs.

  Big doesn’t pause to reel in his pain, this time he pushes through it. “I—I—I… I’m...I’m sorry for thinkin’ about you as I jacked my dick even before you were of age,” he forces out. Then he takes a deep breath and gruffly whispers, “Babe.”

  I stop chewing my inner cheek and truly look up at him. He looks back at me with a small grin in place. “Did you hear what I’ve been sayin’?” he sounds stronger this time.

  Hesitantly, I nod my reply.

  “Did ya catch what I said about bein’ sorry about Linda?” he asks.

  I nod again and swipe a tear from my cheek. Of course I heard that. I heard everything. Even the way Gunz pounded into his flesh like it was no big deal. How can he do that? How could he do that to my Big?

  His eyes grow tender and his grin turns sweet, “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

  He. Loves. Me. Those words…shit. I double nod, and my bottom lip wobbles as tears begin to rapidly spill down my cheeks. I let them flow. There’s no stopping them now that I’m bawling. This is too damn much. He loves me. How could he love me? I don’t deserve him.

  “Big,” I choke through tears.

  “Yeah, my love?”

  Shuffling on the dirty floor, I maneuver onto my knees so I can get up. I have to go to him. I can’t sit here anymore. Not after all that.

  Placing my hands on the floor and using my legs I try to push up, I fumble a bit but am quickly righted when a damp hand cuffs around my upper arm and helps me to my feet.

  “There ya go,” Gunz mutters, keeping hold of me until my feet are both safely planted on ground.

  Dusting myself off with my hands, I thank Gunz and give him a quick peck on the cheek before I go to Big. I stop when we become toe-to-toe and don’t waste another second to have him in my arms. Carefully, I wrap my arms around his middle, trying not to hold on too tight. Then I lay my head upon his uninjured pec, nuzzling my warm tear stained cheek against his cool, clammy, form.

  Heavily, he sighs, sagging with relief, “Hi, my Sugar Tits.”

  “I love you too,” I whisper.

  “What’d you just say?”

  Removing my cheek from his pec, I tilt my head back and carefully rest my chin on his sternum. I meet his eyes with a smile, “I said, I love you.”

  Big drops his head down as far as he’s able. I take the hint and lean up on the balls of my feet. I brush my lips along his.

  “Say it again,” he breathes.

  “I. Love. You.” I enunciate, smiling to his mouth.

  I can’t believe I’ve said it aloud. Those words coming from my lips come as a surprising relief. I love him. I love Big, and now he knows. Never thought I’d see the day I’d ever tell a man I was in love with him. Now here I am, my hands wrapped around my man’s body, and I am telling him what I feel, not only in my heart but deep down in my marrow and in my soul.

  My lips press firmly to his, melding us together. He parts his lips, and I fit mine into his, lingering there as we breathe through our own emotions. My hands move to run through the sides of his damp hair and I hold him to my mouth. He grumbles his approval, an erection stiffening between us. Lightly caressing my tongue to his lips, he shudders a breath, and I savor the sweet-salty taste of his mouth. The kiss is tender and somehow conveys more than I think I could ever say aloud. I love him, he loves me, and we’re going to do this together.

  Keeping my hands in his hair, I pull my lips from his, but I don’t move away. I stay close, my belly and breasts grazing his naked form and my feet touching his.

  “I love you,” I mutter once more, my eyes gazing into his.

  “I love you more, my love,” he smiles, the lines around his eyes highlighting his delight. “Did you hear what I said about you as a teen?”

  “That you masturbated thinking about me?” I reply.

  “Yeah….” he pauses a beat before continuing. “Can you forgive me for that?”

  “What do I need to forgive?” I’m perplexed as to why this is something he feels he needs to serve a penance for.

  “That I was thinkin’ that way before you were an adult,” he clarifies.

  “So?” I still don’t see why it matters.

  “So?”

  “Yeah…So. Do you honestly feel guilty about that?” I ask.

  Big nods. “Hell yeah, I do. I took ya to a dance, and I was hard the entire time you were on the back of my bike, pressin’ your hot tits against my leathers. Once we got back and I saw you to your room, I spent the rest of the night jacking my dick or pumpin’ it into some club whore, thinkin’ of you the entire fuckin’ time,” he fiercely explains.

  Holy shit! I can’t believe he just said that!

  I swallow down my heart that’s somehow jumped into my throat. My stomach feels strange. It feels kinda gooey, and butterflies are dancing in it.

  “I took ya to the pussy doctor when you were seventeen. When you were done, we rode to the Dairy Bar and got some ice cream. You remember that?”

  I remember that day so well. I’d taken the day off school to get a female checkup. Big took me on the back of his Hog and waited in the lobby till I was finished. Afterward, as a treat, we rode to my favorite ice cream place, where we got soft serve cones and ate them sitting at the only picnic table in front of the Dairy Bar.

  I nod my remembrance.

  “I remember that day too, and that’s ‘cause I couldn’t stop starin’ at you lick that fuckin’ ice cream cone picturing it as my dick. Or what that ice cream might taste like lickin’ it from your lips,” he confesses, and I feel my cheeks heat, flushing from both excitement and shyness. He’s never said anything like this to me before. I would have never known.

  To forgo this strange feeling that’s consumed me, I comb my fingers through Big’s hair as a distraction.

  He’s not finished. “Ya remember the summer the brothers made that giant slip-n-slide outta black plastic, and set it up in the side yard by the playground?”

  “Yeah,” I reply.

  That was one fun summer. It was the summer before my senior year. The brothers took turns sliding down that thing in their boxers after they were drunk as hell. It became a sort of game for them. Take a shot, chug a beer, and slide down the massive slip-n-slide. I partook but didn’t get drunk, of course. Now that I think of it, I don’t recall Big ever participating. He’d always be standing at the sidelines in shorts, barefoot, wearing a cutoff t-shirt, drinking a beer, and seeming kinda broody. I remember Big really got pissed when Blimp threw me on his back and dove onto the slip-n-side with me using him as a human bodyboard.

  “I figured ya did. Do ya remember our argument?”

  Our argument? Oh, yeah…duh…‘The Argument.’ So it wasn’t so much of an argument as it was him being a control freak. During the slip-n-side, I had on my red and black cherry bikini, and let’s just say a few times my top kind of popped up during the ride. I ended up flashing the brothers. It’s not like I have something they haven’t already seen a million times before. It didn’t bother me one bit. Big got all bent out of shape and wanted me to wear his shirt. I refused. He insisted. Things got ugly when I started to yell at him, telling him no, as he was trying to force his damn shirt over my head. Next thing I knew, I was over his shoulder and carried back into the clubhouse kicking and screaming. Then he locked me in my room. Yes, I seriously mean it. I was locked in my room. He must have tied something to that handle because I couldn’t get it open. I tried. “If you won’t cover those tits, then you don’t get to play no more,” he’d ordered before leaving me to stew for hours in my room, bored, angry, and alone. Ah, those were the days.

  Shaking my head, I clear my head of the past and reply, “Yes, I remember ‘The Argument.’”

  “Do ya know why I locked you in your room?”

  “Because I accidentally flashed m
y boobs.” I remove my hands from his hair and rest them on his shoulders.

  “Wrong,” he blurts.

  “Wrong?”

  “Yeah,” he nods definitively. “You’re wrong. I did it ‘cause if you hadn’t put that fuckin’ shirt on I was gonna have you on your back, my dick in your pussy, right there in the middle of the fucking yard. You refused, and I knew my control was slippin’. So that’s when I carried ya to your room and held your door shut, as I fucked my fist right in the goddamn hallway.”

  Oh, Lord!

  “You’re telling me that you held my door shut and masturbated in the hall?” This can’t be true. Can it?

  “That’s exactly what I’m tellin’ ya,” he affirms.

  “Because my tits popped out makin’ you wanna fuck me?” I can’t hold back my skepticism. I don’t know how that’s possible. I don’t remember any noise or his dick being hard. I was kinda pissed, so maybe I missed it. But how? He’s huge.

  Big thrusts his hips forward, and his erection pokes me, reminding me of its presence. He growls mischievously, “I wanted to be balls deep in ya way before I saw your tits that day. Seein’ ‘em just made me lose my shit, and the brothers starin’ at cha pissed me off. I wanted to murder ‘em for even lookin’.”

  Big pauses and groans while observing me. He tears his eyes from mine and jerks his head back looking up at the ceiling, brutally yanking on his restraints. “Fuck! I’m so goddamn hard right now! See!? I’m fuckin’ sick. Just picturin’ you in that bikini, all smiles and happiness and shit, it makes me so hard.”

  What in the hell is his problem?

  Snarling, he roars, “Arghh!” jerking at his chains. “Don’t you see why ya shouldn’t love me? Why ya shouldn’t wanna be with me?”

  I don’t see any of it! Why does he have to act this way? So what if he was attracted to me before I was of age. It wasn’t like he wanted me when I was a baby. We’re together now so it all worked out anyhow. I don’t understand this sudden anger. Especially since all those stories has me feeling all warm gooey inside as my pussy becomes wet at the thought of him jacking off to me. Let’s face it, there isn’t a woman on the planet who wouldn’t find that sexy as hell.

  Comfortingly, I dust my fingers down his chest. “Big,” I calmly try to reason with him. “Big,” I repeat. He stops jerking at the chains. Thank God.

  “Uh,” he grunts, breathing heavily.

  “Why do you feel so bad about feelin’ that way?”

  “’Cause you weren’t old enough for me to be feelin’ that way,” he grumbles in his throat, still clearly possessed with rage.

  “So you feel guilty about it?” I press, softly.

  “The only things in my life I ever feel guilty about involve you. Why else would I be in here?”

  Only because of me? What in the hell is he talking about? He has nothing to feel guilty over any more. He’s righted all of his wrongs. There’s nothing else to cover. Dammit! Why does he have to be so stubborn?

  I ask the first question that comes to mind, “You’re tellin’ me that you don’t feel guilty for any of the other bad shit you’ve done?”

  “Nope,” he shakes his head. “Unless it involved you.”

  He can’t be serious.

  “The stuff that didn’t involve me, you feel nothing for?”

  “Nope. Not a damn thing.”

  “Seriously?” I raise a brow, reading him. He’s tense but seems sincere.

  “I just said that, didn’t I?” he shoots back, unamused.

  “How’s that possible?” I’m not sure if I am asking him or myself.

  “’Cause you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered to me…till now,” his head tips back down, and his eyes bore into mine. “Now I’ve got you and our daughter. And that’s all I need. You’re all I’m ever gonna need.”

  Aww…

  I slide my hands up and wrap them around his neck, pulling him down to meet my lips once more. I brush a kiss to his mouth, “You’re just too sweet. And I don’t ever want ya to feel guilty for wantin’ me before I knew I wanted you.”

  “Really, Babe?” he sounds surprised. Emotional.

  “Really.”

  “Even if I told ya I snuck into your bedroom and jacked my dick as I watched you sleep?” he mutters gruffly.

  “Did you really do that?”

  “Twice when I was drunk, I found myself at your door instead of my own.” he admits and tries to jerk away. I don’t let him. I thread my fingers through his hair and force his lips to continue brushing mine.

  “Don’t ever be afraid to tell me how ya feel. Or feel guilty for shit that’s now in the past. I thought we’d talked about all this already. I didn’t know ya had all this pent up. I’m always here to talk,” I trail off. What else can I really do or say to get through to him? Yes I have lots more I need to know. Yeah, I’m still not completely over the blow job or what might have happened when he was on the run. But what he’s talking about is of no issue. The rest I will pull out of him one way or another in due time.

  Now, I know what I’ve gotta do.

  Kissing the corner of his mouth I center my inner strength. “You wanna know how I feel when you tell me all this?” I ask not because I want to confess my feelings. I don’t. But I know he wants to hear them, and that’s the only thing I have to offer him. Me. All of me. What else do I really have to give? Nothing.

  “Y-esss,” he hisses his answer so profoundly that I feel the palpable need pour from his lips, soak into my flesh, and head straight to my heart. My heart beats faster, harder, more full of life, as it heeds his call. His need. His vulnerability.

  Placing a lingering kiss upon his lips, I soak in his warmth and muster up the courage of what I’m about to do, as I listen to the shed’s door creak in the background opening then closing.

  “I feel closer to you,” I breathe to his mouth and remove one hand from his hair to delicately run down his neck, his pec, his side, and down to his hip before I slip my fingers between us to grasp his hardness.

  “Fu-ckk… babe,” he groans on contact, and his hips involuntarily thrust forward, roughly fucking himself into my palm.

  I place a final kiss to the corner of his parted lips and lower myself flat on my feet. I take a step back and look down at my hand wrapped around his thickness. My fingers don’t touch. But damn if his cock doesn’t look amazing in my hand. The thick pounding veins. The darkness of his skin compared to the pale of mine. The fullness of his thick head as it drips pre-come. The impressive length. All of it is sexy, beautiful, erotic, and most of all, it’s mine.

  Stroking him from base to tip, I stop at his head and swirl in his pre-come. My mouth begins to water, and I bite my inner cheek to stifle a moan. I want to taste him.

  “Sugar Tits,” he groans with pleasure, dropping his head forward, eyes glistening with feral intent.

  Faintly dusting my other fingers down his chest and abs, I trace a finger along his hip until it too draws closer to what I desire. Running the tip of my finger through his scant hair and around the base of his cock that I still grasp, I give it a languid tug as my other hand moves to his balls. I cup them in my palm and close around them, feeling their weight and reveling in it. They’re just as beautiful and lickable as his flawless dick.

  I want to suck them into my mouth.

  He groans his approval, and I feel my pussy dampen further, soaking into the fabric of my shorts. My nipples harden, brushing the fabric of the shirt, exciting them. “Do you know how sexy these are?” I tug, applying light pressure to his sac.

  His hips lurch forward. “Fuuu-cckk!” he hisses.

  “Do you?” I tug harder, and his body responds, shuddering as he blows out a shaky breath.

  “No—nobody’s ever…done… that before,” he forces out.

  “Done what?” I know what he means, and I give him a little more of it when I grip his cock and pump him as I squeeze harder on his sac, feeling his balls shift deliciously under my fingers.

&nb
sp; His body seems to take on a mind of its own when it seeks more, quaking with abandon. The harder I squeeze, the more he responds. His cock grows harder than I think I’ve ever seen before as it throbs in my hand. He moans, and his eyes give away his need. All of it. The eyes are the key to any man’s soul, and Big’s opening it all up for me, right here, right now.

  I know what I have to do. This is it. There’s no turning back now. I can do it.

  Knowing I have Big’s body craving me and my touch, and it is consumed with the need to come, I crouch, bringing his dick mere inches from my watering mouth. I lick my lips.

  “What’re you doin’?” he croaks nervously.

  I don’t respond. I know this has to be done. I know it’s cruel and the wrong way to do this. This is my chance, and I’m going to take it. He’s ready. I’m ready. He wants his beatings to mean something, and I want this to mean even more.

  I don’t hesitate when I bring my lips to the crown of his erection and poke my tongue out to sample the salty pre-come.

  “No!” he roars, jerking backward, away from my mouth and my touch. I refuse to let go. My hand grips his shaft tighter, and I release his balls to keep myself from falling. This isn’t the easiest position to be in when pregnant. But I can do this. I will do this.

  I move forward again, more determined than before, and suck his thick head into my mouth. He howls and thrashes in anger, trying to escape. The sounds of the chains violently crashing echo in the shed, but I know he won’t hurt me. Just as I won’t let him go. He has nowhere to run.

  Swirling my tongue around his head as it rests in my mouth, my hand pumps his shaft as I relish in the flavor of him. He’s better than anything I’ve ever tasted. His masculine scent engulfs me like a drug.