The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 1 (MC Chronicles #1) (25 page)

“Would someone like to tell me how this many people
ended up sick?” Oh boy, I am fuming right now, pacing the kitchen, while staring
down the group of five of the six club whores who did this to my men. I have
been down here at the clubhouse for the past two hours cleaning up the whores’
mess. When they said sick, I didn’t realize that included Tripper, Dallas,
Runner, Blimp, Viper, Bulk, Axel, both of the prospects, the brothers still
here from out of town,
and
, my
least or most favorite brother depending on how you look at it, Big. The only
male that didn’t get sick is Gunz. Why? You may wonder… It’s because Gunz hates
cupcakes or any cake for that matter. So he didn’t eat them. Lucky man.

“I… I...” the chubby girl with the dragon tattoo
stutters, afraid.

“You? You? What? Spit it out,” I snap, running my
hands through my hair, so full of rage I could explode at any moment. “Well?” I
grind out, pinning her with my red-hot gaze.

“Thursday we made this food dish… It used egg
yolks…only…ummmm… Well…we sort ‘a saved the whites… and I used them…in the
cupcakes…today…and ummmm… I also used this sour cream…too…for…ummm…the frosting…”
she annoyingly creeps out, one maddening word at a damn time. Arg! I think I
might scream!

“So what you are trying to tell me is you used four
day old egg whites? That…were, where? Let me guess…left out overnight and then
put in the fridge the next morning?”

“Not exactly,” the girl pipes up. “They were put in
the fridge afterward. Then on Saturday night, somebody used them to dip chicken
breast into. I used the leftovers today to put into the cupcakes. I didn’t know
about the chicken. I swear.” She holds up her hands in surrender. “If I would have,
I wouldn’t have ever used them.”

I don’t want to believe her but I do. Even though it
doesn’t change the fact that women basically served up a science experiment in
the cupcakes for the brothers. Good intentions or not, they are fucking idiots.

“So they might have salmonella poisoning? Is what
you’re saying? And what about this sour cream?”

“It was a few days past expiration.”

“Did you taste it?”

“Umm…” she hesitates, lips drooping into a deepened
frown and curling her shoulders forward in palpable guilt.

I wave my hand to shut her up before she says the word
aloud. I can’t be responsible for my actions if I hear that one specific word
impart her tiny lips. These women are taken in, cared for, fed, and treated with
respect. And what do they do they offer in return? Loose pussies, terrible
cooking, and food poisoning. That’s great…just…great…

“No more cooking. You guys are off kitchen duty
indefinitely. I will take care of it from now on, like I should have done in
the first place. Now go grab those buckets, the bleach, and disinfect the
common room. Since you made this mess, you will clean it up,” I demand, leaving
no area open for debate. This is what they will do, and if they want to be part
of this club in the whore capacity, then they will listen to me. If they don’t,
they are out.

“And Dixie, since you and Runner seem to get along
just dandy, you will tend to him for the night,” I delegate, giving her the man
I know she’d choose, since the one she really wants is gone, which would be my
brother Brew. I appreciate Dixie the most out of all the whores, along with
Niki, who I know will be with Gunz and is probably with him right now. They are
two peas in a pod. Kink, fetishes, and all.

“And you,” I heatedly point to the chubby brunette.
Yes, it’s the same one who vomited from sucking Big’s cock. “Will take care of
Blimp.”

She doesn’t even try to feign the disgust I know she’s
feeling for having to accommodate him. Blimp is a large, rotund man with a very
long beard that always smells like pot smoke. He’s sweet and loving toward me,
but to the whores, he’s demanding in the bedroom, and he’s not nice about it
one bit. The whores hate dealing with him on their own. This is precisely why
the dumbass who directly served the men up a platter of illness will be
handling the biggest pain of them all. The only thing she’s got going for her
is the fact Blimp loves thick women and eating pussy. From what I hear, he’s
decent at it too. Not that I’d never know or want to know from firsthand experience.
But like I’ve said before, news spreads fast, and I’ve seen him licking lots of
pussy, for what seems like my entire life.

I finish handing out assignments to the rest of the
whores and head to the king’s bedchamber. I’ve checked in and looked after all
of the other men thus far, besides him. I’m saving him for last. I guess he’s
sick. I was told as much. He’s not been out of his room for dinner tonight, which
is highly unlike him.

Padding my way down the hall toward Big’s room, which
is set apart from the others, I take the right at the end of the hall. My eyes
set on Big’s door. I take in a deep breath and ready myself for whatever may
ensue. Putting one foot in front of the other, I tiptoe until I’m standing
right outside of it. Afraid to put my hand on the knob or to knock, I close my
eyes, my chin to my chest, inhale deeply, hold it, and exhale in a slow sure
breath.

I can do this. I
can see Big. I’m just doing my duty to make sure he’s alright.
I
try to tell myself. It’s not working. I know it’s going to awkward, and I am
truly nervous about what I may do or say. My emotions are a jumbled mess. I
have to do this. I need to do this.

“Fuck!” I hear the deep growl of the only man I know who
could sound like a true animal. “Yeah, that’s it.”

The unforeseen wail of a woman’s moan erupts on the
other side of the closed door, and shoots straight to my heart. I cover it with
my hand, losing all the breath in my lungs. My chest aches like nothing I’ve
ever felt before. Stumbling backwards, my back smacks into the block wall, and
I slide down it. My butt rests on the floor, my knees bent, curled toward my
chest, as tears threaten to overtake my vision. I can’t breathe. Oh God, I
can’t fucking breathe.

Why does this hurt
so badly?
I scream in my head. Running my fingers through my
hair, and gripping it, tugging harshly to focus my mind on anything else.

This can’t be my breaking point. I can do this. I can
be strong.

“That’s it, oh, fuck, ride that cock,” Big grinds out
in pleasure. “Fuck, baby.”

Another moan from the same woman skyrockets, echoing
through the halls, blaring into my ears like a foghorn. Rocking myself, I screw
my eyes shut, trying to ignore this ache and this crack in the very foundation
of me. It’s crumbling, and I can’t glue it back together. Over a week’s worth
of crushing emotions swarms me. My breath shoots out in short spurts. I can’t
breathe! Dear God, I can’t fucking breathe!

“Goddammit, baby, fuck, your tits, yeah, put ‘em in my
mouth,” Big grumbles. The sound of a slap rings out, cutting through the air.

“Ohhhh, yes,” the woman hisses. “More,” she moans.

Three more precise slaps, strike in succession,
followed by the woman’s cries of pleasure. I swallow hard to keep the bile from
rising.

This is the worst moment of my existence.

No, no it’s not.
I reprimand myself.

Get it together,
Bink. It’s just a single man fucking a single woman. You’ve seen this a hundred
times over. Maybe not, Big. Maybe not a man you care about. It’s not the end of
the world.

Then the words that nobody wants to hear said to
another woman are suddenly verbalized.

“Come for me, baby,” Big huskily orders the woman. And
she does. The woman cries out in the longest and most flawless erotic orgasm I
have ever heard. I can hear it everywhere. Feel it everywhere. It cements
itself to my damaged soul. Swimming around in my brain, teasing me, tormenting
me with things that I wanted but could never have.

Those four harrowing words reverberate within me, and
I finally meet my breaking point, losing it completely. Biting my quivering
bottom lip, unable to catch my breath, my ravaged heart shatters into a million
tiny little fragments in my chest. I ache so badly. Tears that I was holding
back, I can no longer hold. They stream freely down my face, dropping off my chin
in fat plops. I tremble in anguish, grinding my teeth to keep from belting out
the wail of pain that wants to blow through me. My fists painfully ball in my
hair, making my scalp burn, as the furious pounding of my heart thunders in my
ears.

Oh Dear God, make it stop.

A feral grunt expels from Big’s mouth surrounding a
string of continual ecstasy-laden curses, and I know he’s just nutted inside
this woman.

Fuck, it hurts!

Shooting my head backward to shake off the swirling
vortex of torment, I smash my head into the brick. Pain radiates the entirety
of my skull and I relish in it, as a small sense of relief takes hold. Smashing
my head backward again, harder this time, my eyes blank out from the
self-inflicted torture, as it washes away all of the overwhelming emotions. The
only thing I feel is a potent pounding of sharp pain shooting through my brain,
down my neck, and into my back. The emotional relief is welcomed. Taking in
another deep breath, I ready myself again and focus on the pain of my head, not
the anguish eating away at my heart.

A loud cracking noise ricochets in the hall when I
collide my skull with the immovable wall for a third time. I grind my teeth to
keep from screaming in blissful agony. The tingling sensation of my skin
bursting open, in a sick sadistic way, makes me happy. The warmth of my blood
rushes through my hair, down my neck and back. I sigh, reveling in the
sensation of pure physical pain, eroding the emotional.

Sliding my hand to the back of my scalp, I touch the
liquid warmth. I open my eyes to see the bright red blood coating my fingertips
as I pull them into view. I can’t tell you why, but there’s something about
pain that defeats the internal overflow. Suddenly, without cause, I feel very
sleepy. My muscles are lax, my head becomes weightless. I fight to keep my eyes
from fluttering closed. But it does me no good. I am called into dreamland by
the Sand Man himself, as my head flops forward, resting on my bent knees. I no
longer fight the urge to stay awake. It’s lights out. Night, night.

The room is steamy hot. I’m nude. I’ve left my panties
in front of Big’s door. He sits fully clothed on the edge of his bed,
transfixed on my curvy form. His eyes dance like liquid fire, with every inch
of my body his gaze penetrates. I’m wet. My pussy aches for him, for his touch,
his tongue, and the strength of his magical fingers coaxing me into the perfect
orgasm.

“You’re mine,” his husky voice states.

A shiver of delight crashes through me, as the
butterflies begin their beautiful ballet inside my wanton form.

“Yes,” I hiss with sheer happiness. “I’m yours.”

“Bink,” a worried tone echoes in our darkened room. I
look around and see no one. “Bink.” It repeats again.

My body begins to shake. I look down to see my fingers
coated in bright red blood.

“Bink.”

My heart thumps in my chest.

“Bink, open your eyes.” There’s a tight grip on my
forearm. “Fuck, come on,” the voice booms.

Yet, Big sits across from me on his bed, calm,
collected, and extraordinarily handsome.

“Come on,” the same voice demands.

Son of a bitch, a sharp, searing sensation burns my
cheek.

“Stop it!” I shriek, my eyes flying open. Light pours
in, and all I see is Big’s face is mere inches from mine. Grief is the only
word to describe his bleak, colorless expression, as his messy hair falls into
his face.

“Oh God, you’re okay,” he gasps expectantly, crushing
me to him. His arms, wrap around my back, as he pulls me off the floor. Craning
my head to the side, so I can breathe, I catch the view of Niki, with a similar
worried expression. Her back’s flat against the hallway wall, fully clothed,
lips red like she had been biting them, and a fresh purpled hick marks her
exposed collarbone.

Observing her is a lightning bolt jolting my system,
my body unintentionally jerks, and it all comes flooding back, crashing
painfully into my chest. The pussy eating, the claiming, the fucking of Niki.
It was Niki that Big was fucking. All of those emotions. Oh fuck, all of those
emotions that overtook me. The emotions that shattered my heart. Feelings I’ve
never felt before. Feelings I never want to experience ever again.

“Get off me.” I try to push him away, but he won’t let
go. Big has me tight in his heavenly scented arms, my legs dangle above the
floor, cheek flattened to his bulging peck.

“No,” his stricken voice cracks.

Carrying me into his room, Big presses plentiful
kisses to the top of my head. Blood or not, he doesn’t seem to care.

Hanging like a rag doll in his arms, my body fully
awake and aware, I demand for him to, “Put me down.”