The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 3 (MC Chronicles #3) (4 page)

Beth lives with her great grandpa in the house that he and his late wife, Marge, bought back in the 1940’s. Over the two-hour conversation, I heard all about the house and family and her past. She was more than obliged to share, and I was willing to listen. Occasionally during the conversation Big would glance up from his work, give me a warming grin of approval, and go back to whatever it was that he was doing. After it was all said and done, I had a sense that Beth, even at thirty-three, was lonely because she’d spent most of her life caring for someone in her family. From her mother being diagnosed with breast cancer and dying, to Jonesy or mothering her younger sister, Tabitha, who’s apparently one big-fat-fucking mooch. Beth loves her sister, I can tell. From what I’ve heard, that self-centered girl needs a reality check, biker bitch style.

The conversation concluded, and I hung up the phone both relieved to finish the conversation and happy to have spoken to her for that long. Afterward, I kissed Big and thanked him for allowing me to carry on in his office and went to find Runner. He was sitting at the bar in the common room talking with Gypsy and Mickey. Whatever hushed banter they were sharing, ceased when I approached them.

“Hey, Bink,” Mickey said moving from his stool and offering it to me with the sweep of his hand.

Climbing on the stool, I rested my elbows on the bar. Mickey stood behind me, and Runner sat on the stool to my right.

“So, I hear we have a mutual friend,” I said, turning my head to look at Runner.

“Oh, yeah? Who?” Runner was being cocky, while his hand circled a bottle of Bud.

“Beth,” I announced, and he seized up in his chair, back stiff, jaw throbbing from grinding his teeth. I could see the sudden grating of his jaw, and I could hear it.

“
She’s none of your business,” he seethed under his breath, staring at his bottle of beer and squeezing it till his knuckles turned white from the pressure.

Apparently someone was a bit sensitive on the subject of Beth.

Gypsy did what he does best and spoke in his weird, cryptically poetic way. Makes no sense to me why he was never road named Yoda. “Pussy becomes more than pussy when you choose to defend it. Make that mistake once, learn from it, make it once more, and it shall be the death of you,” he said, then patted Runner on the shoulder, gave me a peck on the cheek, and was gone, leaving us to deconstruct his statement in our own way.

We sat in silence for maybe a minute, all of us obviously trying to come to our own conclusion of Gypsy’s words. It left me with an understanding that he thought Runner had invested in Beth, and it would be the death of him. I dunno, what do you think?

Gypsy speaks very little, and when he does, it’s usually one or two words. To get an entire sentence out of him is rare and held as a precious gift to treasure. He’s by far the gentlest brother. Even though he looks to be one of the fiercest, with darker skin, of what decent, I’m not sure. His eyes are black as coal, but twinkle like the finest diamond. His hair is and has always been dark, well-kept dreads. The most unique thing about him, besides his striking, almost otherworldly looks, is his heavily accented tongue. Sometimes you think it’s Greek, while others you swear it holds a different edge.

Once we had deciphered Gypsy’s gift, Runner cocked his head to look at me. “What I choose to do with Beth, or not, is none of your concern, Bink.” He spoke much calmer than before, “I know you are lookin’ out for a fellow Sister, or Sister in training, but what goes on there ain’t none of your business. I shouldn’t have made Prez’s mine back in the day when my mouth shot off. I got my ass rightfully handed to me. I don’t want my ass handed to me again for talkin’ back to my Prez’s old lady. But you interfere with Beth and me, and I’m gonna put you in your place. Ya got me?” He kept his eyes on me awaiting my reply, his face stern, and penetrating eyes oddly soft.

I wasn’t sure if I should have been relieved that he apparently cared so much or pissed because he was being an ass. Relieved was the feeling that won out because I respected his position, even though I was looking out for a new friend.

“Okay, I get you. But she’s a friend now. And if you fuck with her, you fuck with me, and if you fuck with me, you fuck with the rest of the sisterhood. We can and will make your life a livin’ hell. Ya got me?” I raised a brow and jerked a nod at him, my elbows perched on the bar.

“Are you givin’ him shit about Beth?” Big chastised halfheartedly, entering into the common room.

I turned my head and watched him stride my way. Mickey moved to take Gypsy’s vacated stool, and Big came up behind me, curling his arms around my middle, hands on our daughter. His lips touched my neck. “Are you bein’ a pain in the balls again?” he teased, hotly breathing over my sensitive skin.

I tilted my head back, resting it on his shoulder and offering up my neck further.

“If you two start fuckin’, I’m leavin’,” Mickey groaned, taking a sip of Gypsy’s vacated beer.

“I second that,” Runner added, lifting his beer and toasting it with Mickey’s.

“We’re not fuckin’…. sheesh,” I blew out. These damn men and their minds always going to sex, sex, sex. Well…guess it’s not like I’m much better.

“Who said?” Big kissed my neck and nipped it with his teeth. I felt that all the way down to my toes and held my breath so I didn’t moan.

“I did,” I explained leveling my tone. “We’re talkin’ about Runner not fucking over Beth.”

Big rubbed his raging hard-on against my back, “You’re gonna let Runner do what he wants, and I’m ready to talk about this fuckin’. I’m hard.”

Mickey’s head dropped forward as he awkwardly grumbled, “Jesus, Prez.”

“Jesus ain’t got nothing’ to do with it. My old lady does.” Big’s hands slid down my belly to cup my pussy over my black yoga pants. “You wet yet?” he whispered in my ear.

I was; it’s impossible not to be with him. But I wasn’t about to give the cocky asshole the satisfaction of knowing it and I was sure as hell, not going to give my pussy to him, for the sheer fact, that he was being just
that
—a cocky asshole.

Instead, I slapped his hands and yanked them from my crotch, throwing them off.

“Pissed and wet, my favorite,” Big commented with a chuckle, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I tried to shrug them off. Didn’t work.

“I’m not wet,” I demanded angrily. He could kiss my fat ass. I wasn’t gonna give him a damn thing.

“Yes, ya are. You’re mad, and I’m hard. Let’s fix it.”

Uhhhh! I had had enough!

I snapped to look at a smiling Runner, “Don’t smile like that!” I yelled, “and don’t you fucking mess with Beth, or I’ll make you sorry you ever decided to buy her daisies by cutting off your cock and feeding it to Pretzel.”

I didn’t wait for a reply. I pried the caveman’s arms off my shoulders and jumped off the stool.

“Bink,” Big warned, reaching out to catch my arm as I tried to storm away. He pulled me to him, my front to his.

Big’s hand swept into the side of my hair, and he leaned down to kiss my forehead. “Don’t be pissed ‘cause I wanna fuck you. And don’t be pissed cause you’re wet thinkin’ about it.” He spoke to my forehead and pulled his lips back, “My dick wants to pound nails every time you’re around, Sugar Tits. I’m not makin’ fun of ya for your pussy feelin’ the same way.”

He single dimple grinned making my heart swell and continued, “But I’ve got more work shit to do anyhow. We’ll get to the fuckin’ in my bed with you ridin’ my cock tonight at ten. Be naked and ready.”

I glanced up to make eye contact and sneered at him, placing my hands on my cocked hips. His grin morphed into toothy smile as his eyes dazzled with amused adoration.

“You’re such—,”
I opened my mouth to offer a snide comment, only to be cut off when he said, “I love it when you look at me that way. Only a woman who really loves her man would look like she can’t to decide if she wants to knee me in the balls or fuck me to death.”

My sneer grew. I curled my lips cruelly over my teeth and my nose bunched, as I squinted my eyes, wishing they were lasers.

He chuckled, “I’m thinkin’ if I keep on talkin’, I’m gonna have to pull out the cuffs to fuck ya and I’d rather save those for later.” Big leaned down to press a chaste kiss to my lips. “I love ya, babe. Be good,” he said before he headed back to his office.

That night Big got what he wanted—me naked riding his cock. I was hoping I would fuck him to death. Didn’t work, he’s still breathing. And now I can’t fuck him anyhow, doctor’s orders.

“Alright, girls’ weekend it is,” he announces, tugging me from my thoughts, “with whoever the fuck ya wanna bring.”

“Thank you.” I mutter, refusing to smile even though I really want to. I did win after all.

“Are you sure you’re gonna listen?” Big questions from inside his bedroom closet. “I don’t wanna roll out tomorrow and something happen to you.”

Walking out of the closet with an arm full of clothes, he drops them on the bed beside me. I take one look at them and inhale deeply to keep from crying. Two hours ago, after our argument in the clubhouse, I can’t stop thinking about him leaving me for two weeks and what he’s going to be doing, or more specifically, who. This is going to be harder than I thought.

“I’m going to be fine,” I reassure him.

Grabbing a t-shirt from the pile, I begin preparations for his trip by laying out a pair of jeans. “I need socks and boxers for five outfits,” I explain, trying to keep myself occupied with the task and less on my thoughts. “Are you going to have a washing machine to use?” I add, as he goes to the dresser and pulls out what I requested.

“Yes,” he walks over to the bed and drops five pairs of black boxers and white crew socks next to the clothes.

First goes jeans laid out length wise, folded in half and then folded in half, length wise. Flattening a t-shirt to the tops of the jeans, I smooth it out with my palm and lay the folded socks and boxers next. Then I curl up the edge of the jeans and begin the roll. Each roll forms one compact outfit and makes it much easier for me to pack in his saddle bags.

“What bike are you taking?” I ask, working on the third set of clothes, as he messes around in the closet for whatever else he needs.

“Onyx.”

“Must be a lotta miles if you’re takin’ her.” Onxy is a 2011 custom Road King. She’s Big’s newest bike and the least flashy, but she’s the best for long trips.

“Stop fishin’, Sugar Tits. I’m not tellin’ ya where we’re goin’; you know the rules. But yeah, we’re gonna be eatin’ up some serious asphalt,” he says, walking out of the closet with two hoodies in hand. He drops them on the bed.

I take them and do my folding duties. Once I finish rolling up his clothes and setting them aside, I sit down on the bed and watch Big rifle through his shaving kit.

“Where are your bags? In the garage?” By bags, I mean the zippered, weatherproof bags that most of the brothers use to pack for long trips. They keep things nice and tidy and are made to fit into their saddle bags perfectly.

Sideways glancing at me, a shaver clutched in his hand, Big nods and tosses it back into his kit. “Yeah, I’ll get ‘em… Ya know, you don’t have to help me pack.”

I know I don’t have to do shit, but it’s something you do for someone you love.

“Just get the fucking bags,” I tease, grinning at him, my arms curled around my giant belly.

Big quickly zips his kit and tosses it across the bed next to his clothes. Walking over to me, he leans over and brushes his nose to mine. My heart flutters in my chest— it’s really got to stop that.

“You’re pretty fuckin’ bossy for such a little bitch.” He nuzzles my nose with his, as his hot breath fans my face. “Ya know, Sugar Tits, just because I can’t fuck ya don’t mean I can’t paddle that ass.”

I jerk my nose away and look him in the eye. “You wouldn’t,” I test, squinting in frustration.

He nods and darkly grins, his blue eyes gleaming, “Fuck yeah, I would. I know ya like it. I’ll have ya beggin’ for my dick in no time. Can’t give it to ya but it’d be sexy as fuck to have ya beg me for it anyhow.”

I’m not begging for a goddamn thing. He can eat shit and die. Just because he started to smack my ass when we fuck and I happen to get off on it doesn’t mean I’m going to beg for his cock. Fuck that and fuck him.

I tear my eyes from his and hmph under my breath, throwing my arms over my chest. I’m not having this conversation.