The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 3 (MC Chronicles #3) (9 page)

“Come ‘ere,” he reaches for me, tugging me into a hug. I reciprocate, and his face goes straight into the plushness of my breasts. My hands curl around his neck, and my fingers comb through his hair. We remain silent, holding each other for a few moments. The need to come simmers in the background as I relish in the closeness. My head dips and my nose goes to his hair in a strange change of positions, as he is usually the one to sniff my hair. I inhale him, remembering his manly scent, and lock it away to remember for later when he’s gone.

“Big, you’ve gotta roll out soon. Can I do your hair before you leave?” I ask quietly, my lips in his hair.

Big hugs me harder, rolling his face into my breasts. “I can’t leave us like this,” he mutters sadly.

“Like what?”

“With you still wantin’ to leave me.”

I don’t want to leave him. Maybe I should do what Gunz suggested and rationalize this before I jump to conclusions. I can’t make a rash decision. I did that once and look where that ended up.

I offer up a compromise, “We’ll talk about it when ya get back. Even though I get part of why it happened, it doesn’t change the fact that it did. And the whole whore thing is just somthin’ you’re gonna have to get the hell over.”

He nods in my cleavage, “If ya stay with me, we can work on it together.”

That’s good enough for me,
for now
. I know it’s time for him to jet. Big must know it too because he releases me and reaches for his pocket. He pulls out his phone and answers it.

“Yeah?” His voice sounds strong like normal. Not depressed like it has since he walked into this room with me. “I’ll be there in ten. Get suited up, and we’ll roll out.”

He hangs up.

Pushing his phone back into his cut and getting up from the floor with an aged groan, he says, “You’ve got ten minutes to do my hair.”

I take that as my cue and run into Jezebel’s bathroom in search for hair ties and a brush. I find them in the linen closet and slide the ties around my wrist. Big’s sitting on the bed once I return. I climb on the bed behind him and rest on my knees. Combing through his hair is easier now that I’ve used my fingers. I smooth the top with the brush and drag it all the way down to the tip, making sure it’s perfect. Once tangle free, I pull his hair back to make a low ponytail, and secure it with a tie from around my wrist. Then I take the ponytail and brush through it once again. Two to three inches down from the first tie, I curl my fingers around Big’s thick hair, and use another hair tie to secure that section. I do this over and over again, in silence, until he only has an inch or two of wispy hair freely dangling from the bottom of his secured ponytail.

I kiss the back of his head when I’m finished. “Done,” I pull away.

Big runs his hand down the ponytail. “Feels good,” he states proudly.

Sliding to the side, Big reaches behind him, snagging me around the waist. I squeal as he hefts me with ease over his hip to settle me on his lap.

The steel bands of his arms encase me, pulling me to his chest. I tilt my head back to look at his face. He single dimple grins, and my heart sputters as I struggle to breathe. Big doesn’t say a word, but his hungry eyes tell me everything when they zero in on my lips. I chew the corner of my mouth with anticipation. He’s going to kiss me. Unable to control the urge, I squirm at the thought.

Seconds feel like a millennium waiting for his full lips to crash onto mine. I want to pull away and run from the room as I yell ‘You don’t deserve these lips’ to him. Except at this very moment I want nothing more than to feel the heat of his lips searing my wounds shut, making everything better.

Big moistens his bottom lip with a flick of his tongue. I watch in agonizing slow motion as he tips his head, inching his mouth closer to mine. The hotness of his breath washes over my face like silk. Feeling the hardness of his excitement press to my outer thigh, I hold back an impatient groan and close my eyes. I can’t take this any longer; this is killing me. Why is he making me wait? My clit wonders the same as the throbbing between my thighs feels like a drum pounding with each maddening beat of my heart. I’m already close to coming. How is that possible?
Fuck.

Then it happens. My world halts, and a velvety-smooth warmth ignites in my belly, spreading to my limbs when his soft mouth caresses mine. It’s sweet, not hard. I part my lips just enough to fit his between, and we meld as one. Unable to control it any longer, I grumble a satisfied groan in my throat. He must like this because he growls in response. My body curls into this chest, and my hands find their way around his neck, holding him close.

I missed this
,
I think to myself. I take a deep breath through my nose, feeling too many emotions at once, and at the same time I get an extra shot of perfection assaulting my senses. His smell, that perfect manly, musky, leather, and beer smell, encasing one huge hot body is more than I can bear. He’s my undoing. I hate him and love him for it all the same.

Big’s hand slides up my back to the base of my neck. His fingers curl around my nape, keeping me still. I feel the dampness of his tongue poking out to gain entrance to my mouth. I don’t hesitate when I part my lips just a bit more for him. He growls appreciatively, taking the invite with fierce intensity, plunging his tongue inside. Our tongues whip and tangle, eliciting moans into each other’s mouths. I feel feverish, and my body coils, falling deeper under Big’s magical spell. I become lightheaded as blood races through my veins. I can’t remember a time kissing someone has ever felt so
good
, so
right
, so desperate, and all-consuming. I can’t seem to get enough.
More
. I need more.

I get what I desire when Big’s fingers lace through my hair. Tightening his fingers in my locks, he yanks my head back breaking our fervent kiss. I groan my frustration at the loss. Big doesn’t give me time to detest, when he dips lower to lave my neck and suck on the sensitive flesh. He bites down, and my fingers dig into the base of his neck. Lost in ecstasy, I wail a coarse moan, and my lips tremble, as my body uncontrollably shudders.

Oh God, I need him now!

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet, Sugar Tits,” Big growls in his throat, his tongue running down the length of my neck. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he nips the tiny silver scar along my jaw. “Fuckin’ cat,” he lowly grunts, sweetly kissing the same scar. I can’t believe he remembers where I got that scar from.

Running his bottom lip over the edge of my jaw, breathing just as heavy as I am, he inches upward to my mouth. Caressing my lips with his, he smiles to my mouth. “I hate to cut this short, Sugar Tits, but I know if I let this go on any longer, I’ll be balls deep in that sweet lil pussy.” As if I didn’t already know, Big thrusts his hips a fraction to press his length firmly to my thigh. “See what you do to me?” he pecks my lips. “I already miss ya, and I haven’t even left yet.”

His voice drops to a low grumble, speaking to my lips, “I’m not gonna fuck up again, ya got me?”

I lightly nod. I really don’t want to talk about this right now.

“This,” he releases my hair and reaches up to sever my hold on his neck. Wrapping his hand around one of mine, he brings it to his heart. I flatten my hand, laying my palm over his pounding organ. I can feel each beat thump against my palm. Big doesn’t speak. I watch my hand on his chest and his that covers mine, hiding it under its massive size.

“This is yours,” he presses his hand harder to mine, explaining without words what he means. His heart is
mine
. My eyes mist with emotion. I hate that he can go from turning me on to making me feel like
this
in a matter of a few seconds. What I hate more is I don’t even know what
this
exactly is. All I do know is I can feel my chest tighten and my throat constrict, while my palms dampen. Son of a bitch, I can’t take this anymore. I need a time out. I need a fucking breather.

What kind of man goes from brushing his gorgeous cock against your thigh to explaining that you’re the one who owns his heart? What did this man do with the Big I’ve known my entire life? What happened to the brash, control freak, asshole of a biker, who didn’t take shit from anyone? Where is he now? He’s sure as hell isn’t in this room. I’m not sitting on
that
biker’s lap. I’m sitting on some man’s lap who looks, smells, and talks like my Big, but he’s not him. This man is soft, and his face is warm as he grins lovingly at our palms on his chest, while his other hand holds me safely in his lap. I watch just as his eyes move from our hands to our daughter. And I just about lose it. Yes, I need a goddamn breather. This is too fucking much.

I hold my breath and blink rapidly. I’m gonna fuckin’ cry. I can’t cry dammit. Not now. Not here. The damp hand over his heart begins to shake. Oh, hell no, I am not going to turn into one of those soft mushy, marshmallow bitches. Not after last night, not ever. But fuck, here it comes….. A tear drops down my cheek, and I curse it. I curse being a female and being hormonal. I can’t cry. I can’t be like this.
Fuck you ovaries.

Big takes his hand off mine, swipes the tear with his finger, and brings it to his mouth, licking it clean. That should gross me out, but it doesn’t. It’s sweet. This is all too sweet.

“Don’t cry, Sugar Tits. I’m gonna make this up to you,” he places his hand back over mine. “We’re gonna get past this shit, and I’m gonna miss you like hell when I’m gone.”

He looks over his shoulder to the clock and grumbles, “Fuck, it’s about time we go.”

I catch the time, and he’s right. We’re already late.

Leaning in, Big gives me a chaste kiss and pries both of our hands off his beating heart. Together he brings them down to our daughter.

Cupping his hand over mine, he presses against my swollen belly. “She’s gonna be beautiful, and you can bet your fuckin’ ass I’m not gonna be doin’ anything to hurt her or you ever again. Ya got me?”

I nod, holding back a whole fucking sea of blubbering mess.
Badass bitch, I’m a badass bitch. Not a wussy, not a prissy bitch crier, not a marshmallow.
Over and over,
I repeat the mantra in my head.

“Tell me,” he demands pleasantly.

“I got ya.”

“Good,” he kisses my temple. “Now let’s go before this gets any harder for me.”

With help, Big slides me off his lap. Safely standing on two feet, I head for the bedroom door and glance over my shoulder to catch him adjusting his erection in his jeans, grinning like a madman.

“It’s gonna take a while for it to go down,” he comments, sauntering to join me by the exit. He places his hand on my lower back. I feel his touch shoot straight to my heart, as the heat from his palm seeps through the fabric of my top, warming me from the inside out. I swallow hard stepping over the threshold into the hallway. A lone tear runs out of the side of my eye, and I catch it with the sweep of my hand before it falls. This is like a walk of doom or destiny or whatever you want to call it. It sucks.

Walking out of the bedroom and down the hall, Big follows right on my tail, refusing to let me move more than a few steps ahead of him. I smile on the inside at his sweetness, but keep my face even, and try to keep my emotions in check.

Jezebel’s house is now empty. Everyone is probably up by the clubhouse ready to see the brothers off. We make our way out the front door and down the steps where Big takes my hand into his, and we leisurely walk in silence to the front of the compound, where the sounds of bikes revving is music to my ears.

The dirt and gravel parking lot alongside the clubhouse is lined with bikes. Women and children line the roadway watching their family recheck their saddlebags. Big gives my hand one final squeeze before letting me go and leaning down to peck me on the forehead. He makes his way over to Onyx, who’s parked at the head of the lineup and loaded down with all of Big’s necessities.

Pixie approaches me and throws an arm over my shoulder. I stand by the wayside allowing many of the sisters and their children to see their old men off, not wanting to seem too forgiving of Big and his antics from last night. Even after our makeup session— or whatever the hell you would call what just went down. I’ve not forgotten his actions, and I can’t seem like a naive little bitch by clinging to him like nothing happened. I don’t work that way, even if I forgive him just a fraction. I’m an emotional mess, but I’m not gonna display it openly. He’s got a helluva lot more groveling to do before we get to open displays of affection.
That
, and he’s a big boy. He can recheck his Hog and saddlebags himself. It’s killing me to watch from the sidelines, as he kneels in the dirt next to his bike rifling through everything to make sure he’s good to go, while fucking up my beautiful pack job in the process. I spent a long time working on those damn bags. Having to watch them get ruined in a matter of seconds is making me cringe. Guess that’s better than crying.

Blimp and Brew straddle their bikes and roll them out to the open pavement. Dixie slides out of the way to let them through before she goes to stand next to her old man. Jezebel and her kids give their final hugs and kisses, just as Bulk starts up his Hog. Miss. H seems reluctant to let go of her daddy’s neck, but finally releases it when he gives her one more kiss on the nose. Bulk sets her down beside his bike. Miss. H does a small dive to cling to her mama’s leg, while her brother stays nestled in Jez’s arms.