MC Chronicles: The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 2: (Motorcycle Club Romance Novel) (26 page)

“So, big bad man, you gonna let me go?” I taunt,
refusing to cower and hoping to secretly fuel this rage more or make him feel
stupid— either works in my favor. Most people would think I am suicidal,
pushing his buttons like this. Too bad. He’s exerted enough control in my life;
why not have a little fun with it? It’s not like he will physically hurt me,
and he’s done enough emotional damage for me to seek a mental ward. I’ve
survived thus far. What’s life without a little extra fun? Don’t cha think?

“You,” he growls gruffly into his throat, looming over
me like an all-powerful Alpha God.

If he wasn’t hostile, this would be a fan-fuckin-tastic time to convince him to stick that deliciously hard cock of his into my mysteriously wet, throbbing pussy, and ravage me into a few toe curling climaxes. This is turning me on. It shouldn’t, I know this. I’ve been sex deprived for far too long. I know Big’s turned on too; I can feel his erection sliding against the underside of my belly. The naughty part of me wants to wiggle so it creates more friction. The other, more logical part, is winning, and it is telling me to lie still until he cools down and explains himself. I really should be more angry and pissed than this. I think a good night’s sleep and sore muscles thanks to my door pounding last night has worn out my ability to stay angry with him. That and my sudden arousal. I’m frustrated, yes, and pissy. I’m not enraged any longer—although I probably should be. Horny trumps everything in this moment.

“Listen,” I exhaust a sigh, lying still beneath him,
as my forgiving eyes blare into his tense, emotional ice-blue beauties. As my
wanton clit throbs with abandon to the pounding of my heart.

This man is
gorgeous.
My brain digests while I steal glances down his
hard, demanding body, as he holds me captive in a provocative, sexy as hell
way. Even the flames that lick up the edges of his irises are sexy, as is the
tick in his jaw beneath a day’s worth of rough, manly stubble that I’m itching
to run my tongue over. Jesus, I’m deliriously horny. Even the way his veins
bulge from his arms under the armor of ink is appealing and turning my slick
heat into a slip ’n slide. I wonder if he’d like to take a ride? Oh dear God,
listen to me.

Get your shit together, Bink. This man is mad. He’s huffing
like a dragon. This isn’t supposed to be erotic. Even if his flaring nostrils
make you desperate to bite your lip.
I admonish myself,
trying to talk myself down from a bitch in heat to mildly turned-on.

I take a deep breath. “This
Neanderthal thing is all fine and dandy with me. Not gonna lie, it’s kinda
sexy,” I seductively grin. I can’t help it. “But could ya please let go of my
throat and tell me whatever it is you’re mad at me about? Considering you just
tore through
your
basement, the
same place
you
locked me in last
night. If anything, I think I should be the one holding
you
down and tearin’ shit up.”
Or your clothes off.
–No, Bink, shut up. —
“Not the other way around. Now if you
please, chill the hell out, tell me what the fuck is up, and let me go. I would
be most appreciative.”
No I wouldn’t. I want
you to shove that rock hard cock in me.

Big doesn’t move an inch when he unleashes a statement
with the most sentimental packed tone imaginable. Something that crushes all
the walls that I’ve built, laying waste to my world as I know it.

“You’re carrying
our
daughter,”
he huskily
states through clenched teeth, audibly grinding his jaw.

What did he just say? I am stunned into silence,
unable to form coherent words. A jumbled mess of thoughts are stumbling over
themselves in my brain. What just happened? How did he find out? Deke? Candy
Cane? No, they wouldn’t rat me out, and nobody else knows. What? Oh my fucking
God, he
knows.

“Aren’t you?” he tests. Even though the tenacious
expression on his face says he knows the truth without me confirming or denying
it. Maybe I should. What do I do? Shit!

Dampening my dry lips with a sweep of my tongue, I
take in a shaky breath and ask, “Who would tell you such a…..a dumbass thing?”
I try to sound strong, it falls short.

“Marshall,” Big blurts defensively, tightening his
hand that’s securing both of mine to the bed, making the bones in my wrist
grind together in pain.

I wince from both pain and the sound of Marshall’s
name said with such disdain.

“Why would he say that?” I whisper.

Big lets up on my wrists just a fraction. “Cause I told him he was leavin’, and you were stayin’. Told ‘em you were done with him. The sissy boy was smart and didn’t argue. Then I went and did the right thing and told ‘em we’d give ‘em baby updates and he’d get visitation once the baby was born. Shocked me by comin’ straight out and sayin’ the baby ain’t even
his. So I did a little math and put the pieces together. Which left me with one
conclusion, Sugar Tits….. That baby,” he flicks his eyes down at our daughter
and back to my face, “she’s
mine
.
Just like you’re
mine
and have
always been
mine.
Big’s Bink,
remember?”

“I—,”

He cuts me off with a sharp snort. “I’m not done,” he asserts,
setting back and releasing both my hands and neck simultaneously. His fingers
go straight to the hem of my dress that is already hiked up enough to expose my
panties underneath. Big slides my garment upward, baring my round belly.
Butterflies hatch from their cocoons and start their fluttery dance inside my
tummy. How many times is this going to happen? I feel like a damned teenager half
the time. All giddy and shit. I don’t do giddy. Horny, hell yeah. But this
isn’t horny. This is
different.

“She’s
mine
,” he cups the sides of our daughter with his giant
hands. The warmth that spreads through me is nothing that I’ve ever experienced
before. It’s like a drug, one that makes you happy and peaceful all at once and
the tension melts away and leaves nothing but a rich soul seeping warmth.
Big knows.
The painful secret has been
laid to rest. I’m free of it now. No more worries. Only knowledge that the
pieces will fall where they may, and I no longer have to force myself to carry
this heavy burden alone. I could almost weep from the relief. It’s like a
boulder has been lifted off my chest, and I can breathe again.
Truly breathe
and relish in the protective
softness that penetrates his words. “
She’s
mine.”
It holds no resentment, no accusation. Only what I would
describe as a loving recognition.

Contentedly savoring his hands
caressing the sides of my belly, I sigh happily. “Is that alright? You’re not
mad?” I ask, knowing his gentle heartwarming features are answer enough. Right
now, he’s not mad. The anger has dispersed. Thankfully.

“I’m going to be a dad,” he whispers
to himself, his eyes following his hands’ movements, as they sweetly draw
shapes and circles on my swollen belly. Harley suddenly kicks, and his eyes
widen with delight, dancing with childlike happiness as he presses his hands to
the spot that moved. She kicks again, batting his palm.

I’m a goner. Angry, tough, unyielding
Big has morphed into this strong, yet adorably enthralled man. He’s breaking
down his own brick wall, a soft single touch and one heart stopping grin at a
time. It’s the sweetest and purest moment I’ve ever seen from him. I leave him
be, allowing him to become acquainted with his little girl.

Shuffling back on my legs, he bends
forward, grazing his succulent lips across the wide span of my belly. My heart
swells to dangerous proportions in my chest. The happiness I feel at this very
moment might actually crack me in half. All the worry of him not wanting her is
gone. This is the best day of my life.

I swallow hard and tightly squeeze my
eyes shut to keep the happy tears from flowing. I can’t ruin this perfect
moment.

“Hi baby girl,” he speaks to her,
repeatedly kissing my tummy next to my flattened belly button. “It’s your daddy
here,” his face lights up as bright at the sun at his admission. “Your mommy
and you are gonna stay here with daddy, and daddy is going to take good care of
you.”

“Ummmmm… Big… I live in Chicago now.
I have a job,” I hesitantly whisper, interrupting his sweet father daughter
bonding. It can’t go unspoken.

Big glacially glares up at me, eyes
clouding over with palpable frustration as his lips still graze the taut skin
of my belly. Damn me and my big mouth. The air surrounding us somehow turns
frigid, and I shiver.

“You’re gonna live here. You listen
up. You’ve got two fuckin’ choices, Sugar Tits. You stay willingly, or I tie
your ass up and you’ll stay ‘cause I make you. Your choice,” Big says.

“What?! You can’t do that,” I sulk
and turn my head to the side, looking away from him. I hate being bossed
around. That will never change. I’m stubborn. Ask me to stay, and I’d probably
jump at the chance. To go off and demand I stay, say that I have no choice, and
I’ll be damned if I listen. Freedom of choice, that’s all I ask. And for
whatever dumbass reason, caveman over here doesn’t think I have a lick of sense
to make the right decision. Sure I do; I’m a grown ass woman.

“I just did,” he sits up, lip
twisting in a snarl. “You’re mine. You came home to
me
.”

I’m not going to correct his
inaccurate justification to inform him that I didn’t come home to him. I came
home for my brother’s wedding. That’s semantics, and it’ll just piss him off
more if I interrupt. I’ve had enough fighting with him to last a lifetime, and
the reasons I came home are of no importance now. For whatever dumbass reason,
I love this pain in the ass man, and that’s all that counts. Right?

He continues, “And Gunz was right. I
could accept you and that sissy fuckwit bein’ together, or I could get my shit
together, do what I needed to do, and be a man. Which is never lettin’ ya leave
me again. Losing the love of my life to some pussy boy or keepin’ her.”

He pauses, “Hmm….” I catch his
movement out of the corner of my eye, as he cockily taps his finger to his
chin. Sarcastic bastard! “I think I’ll keep my woman.”

“You have Marylou, and I don’t
share,” I remind him.

Can’t say I completely rebel against
the idea of being kept. Not anymore. I’ve had six months to sort this shit out,
and seein’ him with her was a swift slap in the face with the harsh reality
that I am insanely jealous of her, almost to the point where I’d enact
violence. So yeah, I know I want him too. I’m just too stubborn to admit my
feelings to him or concede so easily. It’s not in my blood. Daddy didn’t raise
no weak ass fool. Plus, like I said, I hate being told what to do. Cowering and
bowing down to a man, any man’s, orders is like I’ve been transported into the
middle ages, where women obeyed their husbands, and were good for two things,
lying on their backs and taking care of a home. Not my style.

“Got rid of her this mornin’, right after I sent the sissy packin’,” he declares, likes it’s of little importance to him.

This morning? Interesting…..

“Did you fuck her last night?” I snap
to face him so I’m able read his expression.

Guilt, guilt, and more guilt emanates
from his face. Son of a bitch!

“You did!” I shout. “You’re fuckin’
guilty! You come in here actin’ like an animal. Then get all sweet on me. Now
you tell me you fucked that woman last night? After you just said you wanted to
keep me, and I was yours. That is so fuckin’ fucked up. Get off me,” I yank my
feet out from under him. Scrambling to sit up, I scoot across the bed to get
far away from the hypocrite.

“No!” he howls, advancing on me,
stalking me on his hands and knees across the bed, like an animal. “I never
said I fucked her…
You did
.” On
his knees in front of me, he stops, giving me a little space, yet showing that
he is in control. He can reach out and touch me at any moment, should he want
to.

“Whatever guilty shit you thought you
saw on my face was me feelin’ guilty for breakin’ the poor kid’s heart. She’s a
nice girl and decent in the sack.”

I wince at his admission and curl
into myself. I don’t want to hear that shit. I’m in the midst of having another
hormonal episode, where everything is going to strike me tenfold. Might have a
bit to do with this asshole waking me up by shoving me down to a bed and
holding my throat. That is enough to unbalance anyone’s equilibrium. Or maybe
it’s mood whiplash from his ever-changing moods. One second angry, the next
sublimely happy… and so on … and so forth… You’ve seen it. You know what I’m
talking about.

He continues, “Marylou was just
another woman to pass the time, just like Linda was.”

I peek up at him though heavy lids.
“Whatever happened to her?” I shyly ask.

“Linda?”

I tuck my knees further to my chest.
Wrapping my arms around my legs, I bounce my head in reply.

“She moved to Florida, I think,” he
weakly shrugs. “Gunz and Steel went to visit her in recovery and told her she
had two choices — move or pick out a burial plot and headstone.”

That sounds about right. For once, I agree with the unforgiving options they offered. In most cases, they’re as lenient as a steel beam. Hence my father’s road name - Steel for his hard, inflexible, cut and dry disposition. That’s why he makes a good VP. That man doesn’t have a tender spot in his heart for anyone ‘cept Lindy Sue. Go figure. Big Dick’s emotions come in to play with each and every run and business transaction. He’s a smart, calculated, control freak. His core is as fluffy as a marshmallow, which creates room for imbalance when his emotions get the better of him in a sticky situation. That’s why my daddy makes a perfect second hand. His core is as strong as steel, and he gets the tough jobs done. Where Big’s empathy and guilt would otherwise get in the way, daddy’s indifference proves invaluable. They are a perfectly matched team, with a smart techie badass as their Sergeant of Arms. They all work like a well-oiled machine. Years together, they know each other’s strengths and weaknesses, which goes beyond the basics of brotherhood. It’s thicker than any blood. They are a unit, working in tandem. A seamless symmetry, virtually unheard of
Son of a bitch
…See, I am doing it again. Avoiding what’s really going on here, my mind’s focusing on nonsense.